


Lovesick

by SweetestTorture



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Best Friends, Bullying, Childhood Friends, Declarations Of Love, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jotunn | Frost Giant, Like, Long, Love, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, Male-Female Friendship, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Rivalry, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Slow Romance, Smut, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Triggers, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, breaking up of an arranged marriage, but like not between reader and loki, this is a REALLY slow burn yall, thor & reader if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29304144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetestTorture/pseuds/SweetestTorture
Summary: "You have loved Loki since the two of you were children. Body and soul, Valhalla and Helheim, every single aspect that was furious, resentful, hateful -- you desired it all.But in desire is where it would remain."---You have kept your heart and feelings locked away deep inside of you for a certain Asgardian prince. With chess games, wishing on stars, and steamy dreams and fantasies, you would do absolutely anything for your best friend.But when Loki must do his princely duty and marry a princess, are you willing to torture yourself for his happiness or finally give up your heart?Unshakeable loyalty, torturous unspoken feelings, and the mystery of your place in all this.---((Tags will be added as the story progresses))
Relationships: Loki (Marvel) & Reader, Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 92
Kudos: 147





	1. The Opening Move

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first self-insert!! I have written a bit before on fanfic.net, but this is the first time I'm using ao3!! Any comments/suggestions are greatly appreciated!  
> \--  
> Tags will be added as the story progresses further. I loveeeee slow burns, so each chapter is pretty long. 
> 
> TW: some depictions of bullying.

Long, slender fingers -- pale, perfect, like they belonged to a lovingly crafted marble statue. Sea green eyes that were always so stormy, but in their clarity, a hauntingly beautiful shade of azure. Those lips. . . curled in a perpetual smirk, glinting a mercilessly detached nature. Where the most biting insults, reprimands, and callous hatred originated . . . but you adored them all the same, every single bit of it. 

“You’re not going to make me wait all day are you?” 

Loki’s sneering chuckle broke you out of your reverie, finally glancing at the chessboard between the two of you. You couldn’t exactly remember what piece he moved exactly, so you moved one of your knights hastily. The prince chuckled again.

“You think after all these years, you would at least be able to make a decent play against me,” he overtook your knight, putting him in the position of checkmate. “Yet, here we are,” he drawled with a curl of his tongue. 

“Always so cocky,” you chuckled with an arch of your brow, already resetting the pieces to the starting positions on the board. Loki smirked at the gentle jibe, you continuing, “Perhaps this next game you will meet you match?”

He scoffed, “Hardly-- it’s quite the joke to play with you, “ and yet he always was up for another game, never standing down from your challenge. His eyes gazed over the board, focused, hand already moving out to make the first move -- like you always let him. “But since I find this mildly stimulating, I’ll entertain your whims. . .” 

And the two of you were back in your silent mental battle, Loki always attacking so ruthlessly with his black pieces and you always on the defensive with your white. You comfortingly rubbed an engraved inscription at the side of the board with your fingers -- it was the name of your father. This game “Chess” was a present to him from Midgard ages ago; you had grown up playing with it -- in turn, Loki had grown alongside you as your staunchest rival in the game. When you first introduced the game to him when you were both children, he was appalled to even consider playing a game created by “inferior” beings, but he quickly changed his tune once he watched a round between you and Thor. 

Pieces moved back and forth in silence. The two of you were never that talkative to begin with -- a rare trait among the natural boisterous nature of Asgardians -- and when you did speak, it was with purpose. The gentle morning light streamed in through Loki’s bedroom window, the two of you comfortably seated upon his lush emerald bedsheets. This had become a routine between you two since childhood -- a morning game of chess in his chambers. Thor used to actually come too, but he quickly grew out of it since it was “way too damn boring” for him. But that was fine -- in these moments, it truly felt like you had the prince all to yourself. 

_Maybe I’ll toy with him, just a little bit. . ._

“. . .?” Loki’s brow furrowed at your last move, obviously confused about its nature. It looked so random -- so out of place. He looked up at you, with a _did you seriously make such a stupid move just now_ kind of look. He puffed with confidence, making his next move, moving the exact piece you expected him to. He was puzzled at your unfazed countenance-- that is, until you moved your bishop. Those dark brows furrowed once more, this time in aghast. “You. . .” he muttered angrily, eyes glued to the board. 

“Hm?” You coyly leaned back, his eyes finally coming up to your’s -- oh yes, he seemed distraught alright. “Is something the matter, Loki?” 

The man really had been such a bad influence -- your brow arched just as he did, a copy of his own smug expression on your features. You saw a nice shade of red grace his neck, but you knew that was probably just from anger. But before you could register any emotion on his face, he pulled back down to the game at hand. He stretched his neck, as if the movement could actually offer him a new perspective 

“No of course not, what a ridiculous notion . . .” he mumbled. A hand shot out and made their move, and you could already see the course of his actions. You giggled beneath your breath, hoping he wouldn't notice -- but, of course, he did. He always did. “You find your impending loss amusing, my dear? Fitting, seeing as though the losing place has become like a home to you.” 

Loki sneered, glaring at you with subdued fire. He wanted to get a rile out of you, just as he did with every other person he encountered -- but he knows that with _you_ , it simply was not that simple. You giggled again, seeing the straining vein on his forehead, knowing that the man was already getting frustrated. _Fine, have it your way you big baby. . ._

You moved a small alabaster piece, and you could immediately see the way Loki’s eyes lit up at the sight of another win. A genuine look of joy graced his features, if so minute it was imperceptible by anyone else -- but you saw it. You saw it all. And even if you had to lose once, or a hundred, or a million times -- his smile was all worth it. 

“Ah, and I was so sure about it this time,” you stretched your arms above you, playfully whining. The simple fabric of your dress bunched at your shoulders, the simple nude-colored material hanging lightly around your figure. “You are always quite the beast, Loki. It is your win again!” 

A beat of quiet. Strange. . . You look over at him, and he’s leaned back on his arms, some emotion written in his features. His lips are tight, but you see the way his lip darted out to lick them. _Norns, I wish I could own that tongue. . ._ The way he’s looking at you, like something he’s analyzing. . . something he’s committing to memory. . . something he’s _admiring_. . . ? Your face suddenly burned, and you awkwardly chuckled to hide it. 

“Loki? Is something the matter. . .?” You wave your hand in front of his face nonchalantly -- he snatched your wrist, forcefully pulling you closer. Chess pieces scattered beneath the two of you, your legs digging into pieces and the board. Loki’s face closed in on you, and you prayed to Valhalla above that he couldn’t feel the way your heartbeat hammered in your pulse. He was so close -- you could smell him deeply, the scent of pine and mint and water, and even make out the gold flecks in his eyes. His face was unreadable, perfectly stoic. “. . . Loki?” you feebly questioned.

“It’s curious. . . ” he muttered, feeling his breath on your face and sending a chill down your spine. “. . . how someone could possibly still be so bad at a game despite years of practice?” He crassly laughed, and that finally broke the spell -- you shoved him back, laughing yourself, if only to hide your flushed face and sweaty palms. You subtly tried to wipe your hands on your dress to achieve some sort of relief. 

“You’ll see, Loki, one day I will truly wipe that smirk off your face when I take your queen,” you laughed, cleaning up the pieces and returning them to the game’s case beside the bed. 

“Ha! What a day that will be!” He snickered, reclining back onto his bed fully and folding his arms behind his head. “That must be the same day Thor will get through a diplomatic conference without breaking down into a fit of exasperated boredom.” 

You laughed out loud at that, finishing returning all the pieces to the chess case and setting it back down on his bed-side table. You plopped down on the bed beside him, folding your hands over your middle. “As if you are so innocent!” you joked, elbowing his side with a laugh. “Remember that nasty trick you played on that dignitary from Alfheim?” 

“Which one?” 

“Loki!” you laughed again at his incredulousness, turning to elbow him again -- but he caught it, intertwining his arm with yours and leaving it. The two of you were locked arm in arm now; you could feel his cooling aura touch all over you, even if it was only his arm you were touching. 

“Ah, yes, that old stuffy man,” he quipped, “Well, the weasels did make for a charming dinner show, did they not? The man seemed to enjoy it, hm?” 

“Not when he is turned into one,” you scolded with a laugh, tugging his arm. “You’re lucky you never saw the rear end of such ploys; Odin had to coax the man to not start another war!”

You felt his arm go slightly rigid. Oops. You broke one of the most classic “do not bring up with Loki”-isms: his ever-so-loving father. 

“Odin, ever the diplomat. . .” 

You looked over at him, seeing his eyes bore holes into his ceiling, the way his mind was already wandering into dark expanses too depressing for such a beautiful Asgardian morning. _Ugh, nice going idiot._

“Loki,” you cleared your throat, softly stroking his arm in a comforting motion that you knew always soothed him. “Are you excited to see Vanaheim again? Have you planned anything?” 

“Woman, I can see Vanaheim whenever I wish -- besides, I have no such expectations for a realm so inferior to Asgard--”

“Ah, always such extremes with you!” you sighed, shaking your head. “I am simply asking if you have any plans for fun outside political meetings, Loki.” 

He sighed and shook his head, as if talking about such things were beneath him, but he continued on nonetheless. “Thor is pulling me into some sort of traditional jousting festival there, but I am in no mood to entertain such trivialities. . . “ and he rambled on and on. Loki loved the sound of his own voice, and admittedly, you loved its velvet timbre even more so. His words and thoughts meandered aimlessly, letting him fall into his own mind once more. If you could, you would just sit at his feet all day and listen to him talk. 

A knock at his bedchamber’s door broke the peace. 

“My prince,” a servant girl spoke from outside. “Breakfast is ready in the food hall. My queen Frigga is requesting your presence.”

“Tell her I’m coming,” he called back, pinching the bridge of his nose annoyedly. He lowered his voice, turning his head to look at you. You greedily swallowed up the sight of his eyes, hopefully hiding your sudden intake of breath. He smiled, a real gentle smile, “Duty calls, I’m afraid.”

You nodded your head, your eyes undoubtedly full of your adoration for this man.

“Until the next sunrise, Loki."

\---

“Safe Travels!” 

“Farewell!!” 

The small crowd cheered at the departing royal fleet. Your hand waved at the back of the crowd, albeit a bit disheartened. 

You could only catch the retreating image of Loki’s ship as they took off from the Bifrost. The meeting at Vanaheim had been pushed forward unexpectedly to that same day; so quickly, in fact, that you never even had the chance to send your best friend off with a proper goodbye. Strangely enough, it seemed the political trip was only undertaken by the royal family and a handful of close viziers -- you wondered what kind of topics they had to be discussing. You tried cracking Loki from some information before, but even he seemed to be uninformed -- at least, that’s what he always said. But you knew it wasn’t a lie. Knowing him for as long as you did, you could easily shift out his lies from his truths now.

After the crowd cleared from the Bifrost and made sure you were left alone on that rainbow bridge, your feet quickly made a mad dash toward the gate. Hastily picking up your simple dress, the impact of your equally simple sandals lit up the Bifrost beneath you with each running step. Finally at the gate, you saw the solitary steadfast guardian, ever at his post. 

“Heimdall!” you excitedly called, going over to his side. Stretching out on your toes, you struggled to place a sweet kiss on his cheek. The man smiled gently in reply, sparing you a side glance.

“My lady,” he raised a brow. “Here to pray for fortune for your prince?”

You blushed at his brazenness. “Heimdall, please, he -- he is not _my_ prince --”

“Is that so? Then where is the star you’ve dedicated to Thor--?”

“ _Heimdall_!” you laughed embarrassedly. This man always loved to tease you since you’ve known him. “Please, just--” you stuttered, recollecting your composure. “Please, tell me what you see.” 

The two of you focused your eyes to the stars beyond the gate, seeing the guardian’s shoulders stiffen and relax. “Prince Loki is aboard the royal carrier, reading a book, obviously bored. . .ah,” he chuckled. “It seems he is now arguing with his brother for some fun.”

You smiled and giggled at that, knowing how much his boredom spelled for chaos for others. You could already see it now in your own mind; Loki probably turned Thor’s wine into snakes and scared his bear of a brother witless. “And what of ‘Sygin’, Heimdall?”

“You star. . .” his eyes softened. “Your star is as bright as ever, my lady. Ever a twinkling light at the edge of the universe.”

You nodded your head resolutely; you stepped forward toward the edge of the gate, peering out into the expanse of the universe. Among those intricate webs of galaxies, a star you had helped discover as a child with Heimdall lay somewhere lightyears away -- “Sigyn” is what you had named it. You had read it in a book your father had brought from Nidevaleir. 

“Victory.” 

Heimdall’s voice echoed your thoughts behind you. You nodded again, continuing to look at the endless blanket of stars. You clasped your hands together, closing your eyes, bowing your head as you always did when Loki went off on whatever manner of a trip. 

_Dearest Sigyn, with your undying light, please shine on Loki. Light his way in darkness. Give him strength in all things, victory in all endeavors. May his cup never empty, his plate never wanting. Let his eyes know peace and his cheeks tire with rosiness. Let his heart be light. Keep him safe, keep him safe, keep him safe. . ._

There was no rhyme or reason to your wishing; you simply spoke from the heart, pouring out every ounce of affection you could never dream to outwardly show. 

_. . . and please, bring him back to me._

  
  


You turned back around, smiling satisfied with your prayer, but were taken aback by Heimdall’s strangely serious countenance at his post. “Heimdall,” you questioned, stepping closer. “Heimdall, what’s wrong? What do you see?”

His eyes analyzed your’s for a moment, as if contemplating what to say. “The anniversary of your parents’ death is coming soon upon us,” he at last commented with a quiet voice. “It marks a millenia to the day.” 

You nodded, turning back around to peer out at the sparkling universe, instinctively beginning to wring your hands for comfort. “Yes, a thousand have already passed, haven’t they. . .” you muttered. “And yet-- yet, it still feels like only yesterday--”

“They fought bravely for the sake of Asgard, my lady,” the guardian interrupted from behind you, already sensing the weakness in your voice. “They are undoubtedly watching you from Valhalla -- and I should know.”

You laughed at that, quickly wiping away a wetness at the corner of your eye. Heimdall had always been there for you since you were a child -- ever since your parents gave their lives in battle. The royal family had graciously allowed you to live on as a minor noble within the palace in repayment of your family’s service. You quickly became an established scholar and lady, but the social charisma a noble needed to survive was seemingly lost on you; besides Loki, that loneliness could always be helped by Heimdall’s company. When you were younger, he was expectedly averse to having a small child pester him with questions about the universe -- but that quickly gave way to him answering any and all curiosity, providing his own explanations, giving you guidance, and building your relationship to what it is now. 

You turned back to look at him; his golden eyes had softened once more, but you could still sense something behind them. 

“Heimdall?” 

He shook his head, his golden armor gently clanking. “I see something on the horizon,” Heimdall squinted at the expanse behind you. “And I fear. . . I have a feeling. I fear for _you_ , my lady.”

You scoffed, expecting it to be some joke, but Heimdall’s continued seriousness shook the mirth from you. “Your fears are likely paranoia, dear Heimdall. As you can see, I am perfectly fine!”

“I see what may lie ahead of you, child, and I--” he caught himself, shifting on his feet. “I simply ask that you be careful going forward.” 

“Always so cryptic. . .” you sighed, shaking your head teasingly. “If it will give you comfort, my friend, I will be careful.”

He finally nodded, a tight smile on his face. “You should return to the palace now, child,” he spoke, fixing his posture back to that of a stoic guardian. “It seems as though some of the eunuchs have already noticed you missing.” 

“ _Oh shit--!_ ” you hiked your skirt up to your knees hastily, running out of the gate and back on the bifrost. You tossed a garbled goodbye over your shoulder, waving wildly behind you. You didn’t see it, but Heimdall offered a quiet ‘see you later’ under a chuckling breath as well. 

\---

You held a unique position within the palace. 

“My lord, I’m having trouble transcribing this tome. . .” you overheard a young apprentice approaching an older scholar at his desk. The older man, a senior scholar named Lord Torsten, looked up from his work at his desk. Your curiosity tuned in your ears from your own desk at your corner of the royal library’s study. The young man continued, “. . .I do not understand this language or its origin.” 

Torsten looked over the book’s pages; his eyes sharply noticed your gaze, and you quickly shifted your stare back to your work. Your ears continued to listen. 

“Hm, this seems to be an old Midgardian script. . .” 

_Damnit._ You bit your tongue, knowing what the old man was going to do next. You looked up from your work, already seeing Torsten looking over at you and motioning in your direction. He had an amiable glint in his eyes. 

“. . . the lady scholar there is our chief master in all things Midgardian.” 

Your eyes flicked to the young apprentice’s face, seeing that trademark look of concern, surprise, and disgust. _A woman? Scholar? Teaching a man? Preposterous!_

Slowly, the man made his way over, still hesitant to ask you for help; in the fading light of day, the candle light illuminated his features. He looked younger than you, but not by much; shoddily fixed dark brown hair, dark green eyes, and a naturally peevish disposition. You might’ve considered him handsome if not for the look of disdain not-so-discreetly written on his face. 

“Here,” he nonchalantly thrust the book in your direction, refusing to even look you in the face. “What language is this?”

Torsten chuckled at the other end of the study, the other seasoned scholars in the hall similarly chuckling at the young man’s behavior. It was always a crowd-pleaser when a greenhorn was put in their place. You shook your head, scoffing. Pushing yourself up from your desk, slowly, hands gripping the sides of your desk, you cleared your throat, refusing to acknowledge the outstretched tome. 

“Name.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Your _name_ , apprentice. Surely you must have one.”

“I--” he turned to look at you, disgust on his face. “Who are _you_ to ask me--” 

“ _Name_ ,” you bit out. “Or those pages will remain a mystery to you.” 

The young man clicked his tongue, pausing, weighing his options. Finally, he chewed out a response through clenched teeth, his eyes still not meeting your’s. 

“Ingvarr.” 

“Well, _Ingvarr_ ,” you coldly chided, taking the book from his hands and quickly flipping through its pages. “Since you are new I will offer you one piece of advice -- _never_ look down on your comrades, whether in battle, in labor, and even here -- in the academic pursuits.” You shut the book with an extra snap, glaring at him with a discerning eye. “We are all here for the same purpose. The pursuit of _knowledge_. Don’t let your primitive ego get in the way of that.” 

You handed the tome back to the astonished Ingvarr, who must’ve been expecting something different from your mouth entirely; he was agape, eyes a bit wide. 

“I--”

“And don’t forget that I _am_ your superior within these halls, Ingvarr,” you quickly scribbled something down on a scrap of paper, handing it to him. “Find this book. It will help you with the translations. If you need any more help, I will be right here.” 

Ingvarr swallowed a lump in his throat, and he sheepishly bowed in gratitude. “Thank you, my lady,” then he sped off into the maze of bookshelves beyond the library’s study hall. 

“Nicely done, my lady,” Torsten strolled over beside your desk, scratching his white scruffy beard leisurely. “Always _just_ cold enough, but still somehow with a motherly touch. You truly are quite the fearsome woman.” 

You smiled at him, sinking back down at your desk and resuming your work. “I wish it were not necessary,” you quipped. “It still amazes me how antiquated people’s beliefs still are.” 

“Antiquated indeed,” the older man mused, now leaning against your desk casually as you worked. “Say--” _Fuck. I know that tone of voice._ “-- My daughter tells me that she did not see you at her majesty’s tea yesterday afternoon? Peculiar, considering any and all ladies within the palace were invited.”

You sighed, not bothering to lift your head from your work. “I asked her majesty if I could be excused. I needed time to still translate some Vanaheiman archives for their departure,” you flicked a page particularly roughly. “I don't’ have time for ‘tea’ parties.” 

Torsten said nothing, but you could feel his aged gaze on you; you heard the sound of his bristly beard as he continued to stroke it, pondering something in that great mind of his. “Of course, my lady. Work is always a noble cause. . .” he paced back to his desk, flopping down in his chair. “But you are still young. _Live_ young, my lady.” 

The study returned to its assured quietness, crackling fire places and turning papyrus the only sounds filling the hall. You tried finding comfort in the inked pages of historical texts and literature, but your mind wandered. 

_Live young? What does that even mean. . ._

\---

_“My dearest. . .”_

_Loki’s breathy whisper grazed your naked skin, already gleaming with a thin layer of heated sweat. You ran your fingers through his raven hair, roughly gripping his scalp, forcing his mouth back against yours. He tasted like passion and death and love and war -- you were addicted to him completely._

_“Loki. . . please. . .” you sighed as his lips descended, a path of wet kisses trailing down your chest, your stomach, your navel -- your breath hitched when his breath hovered over your aching heat._

_“What do you want, my sweet?” he smirked against the skin, so close but not nearly close enough. “You must tell me what you want. . .” he whispered._

_“Please, Loki --” you stuttered, looking down and searching for his eyes in the darkness. You could only make out the crown of his dark head. “Loki, I need it-- I need--”_

_“What? What do you need?”_

_“Please, Loki!” you whined, desperately arching your back and lifting your hips, but Loki held you firm in his stone-like grip. “Loki. . .”_

_“Hm?”_

_“. . . you.”_

_“What was that, my lady?”_

_“You, Loki, I want_ you _!!”_

“AH--!” you woke up with a start, chest heaving, skin sticky and hot. A dim candle light flickered on your bedside table, illuminating your simple room: a sturdy oak bed, a desk for studying, some decorations and amenities here and there, and most of all books upon books. Your room practically looked like a library storage room. 

_When did I fall asleep . . ?_ The world outside your window was already dark and quiet, the palace already at rest. You were still in your day clothes -- you must’ve dozed off during the afternoon. Laying on your bed, you were surrounded by numerous papers and books that corroborated the assumption. You wiped a hand against the back of your heated neck. 

_Stars. . . another dream_. 

You can’t exactly pinpoint when they began, but as you grew into womanhood, those. . . _fantasies_ of a certain prince became relentless. These days, they were practically inescapable -- every night, Loki, Loki, _Loki_ . . . admittedly, you had been avoiding sleeping altogether, resulting in your “power” naps like the one you just had (ie: being knocked out by fatigue). It didn’t help that you woke up at the crack of dawn every morning to play chess with him--

Ah. But you didn’t need to do that tomorrow morning, do you. He was still off at Vanaheim. . . 

The pressure between your legs didn’t abate, much to your chagrin. You bit down on your lip, your eyes glancing over to a particular bookshelf next to your bed -- your series of diaries. You quickly got up and pulled out the latest volume, grabbing a nearby pen and began to furiously scribble at the pages. 

_My dearest prince, do you have any idea what you do to me? Every night, I dream of your tongue on my womanhood--_

No. . . No that wasn’t clear enough. Not even close. 

\-- ~~_womanhood_ ~~_Cunt. My dripping, heady cunt, laid out and bare all for your taking. Every part of me aches for you. When will you decide to feast on me, my prince . . ._

This erotic catharsis is how you let off steam, your fantasies materialized on paper making your thighs clench on impulse. Your recent volumes were filled to the brim with lustful imagination and dreams. But it wasn’t enough -- it was never enough. At the end of your steamy writing, your hands were shaking -- all that was left was dissatisfaction and the gnawing emptiness at your chest. 

You have loved Loki since the two of you were children. Body and soul, Valhalla and Helheim, every single aspect that was furious, resentful, hateful -- you desired it all. 

But in desire is where it would remain. 

\---

You strolled aimlessly through the palace hallways, admiring the beautiful afternoon autumn colors in the courtyards through the massive floor to ceiling windows. It was a rare moment of leisure for you, on an afternoon break from your scholarly studies. The days had passed quietly in the castle -- so unusually quiet without Thor _or_ Loki’s antics -- eagerly fulfilling your duties as a scholar and less enthusiastically as a lady noble. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy her majesty Frigga’s events or other events meant for noble ladies -- Norns, no, you _adored_ the fancy dresses, the lush food, the warm environment of mirth. 

It’s just that. . . 

“My _my_ \-- what a wonderfully unique ensemble you’ve put together today Nessie. Hand me downs, I presume?” 

. . . some of the ladies were, for lack of a better word, straight up _bitches_. 

You rounded a corner seeing a vulturous group of noble women hounding on a young girl: sweet Nessie, Torsten’s daughter. She was much too timid, letting the group of ladies trap her against a wall. 

“And just what is _this_?” One lady picked at a brooch on Nessie’s shoulder strap. 

“I-it’s a brooch from my-- my sister--” 

“ _Really_ ? Such an _eyesore_ as this--” the other lady pulled it off roughly, throwing the brooch to the ground. “--Is better fit as a decorative pebble on the courtyard pathways.”

_How pathetic_. 

“ _Ladies_!” 

Your voice cut through their saccharine chatter, all eyes turned toward you. You stepped forward, picking up the discarded brooch. It was a lovely little thing -- a ruby flower encased in bronze. Luckily it didn’t seem to be damaged. 

“Such decorum isn’t fit for palace halls, my ladies,” you seethed at the other women who backed away from you as you approached. You brought yourself fully between the small crowd and Nessie. “If you want to squabble, perhaps the _stables_ are more suitable.” 

“Lowly _wench--_ !” the lead girl, Lady Etoile you recognized, lit up like a tomato, baring her teeth like a wild animal. “How _dare_ you speak to someone of superior birth in such a fashion? Do not think for a _second_ that just because we share the same title means that we are in any way _equal_!” 

“My lady,” you snickered, resolute in your stance. “If what you say is true, then why do you degrade yourself at all by reprimanding someone of such _lowly_ birth?” 

_SLAP!_

The sound of Etoile’s hand across your cheek echoed off the hallways. Your cheek burned, but you refused to show any emotion; raising your eyes, you saw the woman’s wild eyes and heaving chest, as if the slap was a thrill. Etoile stalked closer, breathing down your face. 

“Remember your place lower-class _filth_ ,” she leaned in closer, murderous intent in her eyes. “One day, his highness Loki will realize where you truly belong. On that day, you’re _dead_.” 

With a whip of her perfect hair, the entourage followed her out of the hall. When it was quiet again, finally turning back around to face Nessie. Her head was still cowered, shaking like a leaf caught in the wind. 

“Are you alright . . ?” you muttered, trying to look under her sandy blonde bangs to see her face. You outstretched her brooch in your hand -- she snatched it in a blink, shoving past you before you roughly without a word. Once again you were left alone. You resumed your stroll, as if nothing even happened -- except you were rubbing a sore cheek every few steps or so. 

Of course, this was nothing new -- you came from a line that wasn’t noble, basically only living on the Allfather’s good graces. You were in a position of power beyond your birthright in your work as a scholar and advisor. And most of all, you were inexplicably close to the royal princes. You didn’t see yourself as particularly beautiful, talented, or even physically powerful. It was better that Nessie didn’t associate with you.

  
  


A raven cawed outside. You stopped and stared at its glistening body perched on a branch. You wondered how Loki was doing. 

\---

Whispers. 

“Did you hear. . .?” 

Murmurs. 

“In all the Nine Realms, _really_. . . ?” 

Rumors. 

“Are you serious. . .?” 

The palace was abuzz with _something_ \-- it was the day of the Odinson family’s return to Asgard, and there was a rush of news and gossip that made your head spin. From stories about a long lost royal, challenges to the throne, even Odin revealing that his right eye was under his eyepatch this whole time -- the stories ranged on the full spectrum of bizarre and farfetched. _What’s got people so riled up?_

Finally, the horns sounded -- the royal fleet had arrived. Faster than the wind would have carried you, you hurled yourself through the palace halls, running out onto its golden steps, through city streets, and onto the Bifrost; you were determined to be at the front of the crowd to welcome home the family. Running through the sheaths of people, you could already notice something strange; there was an extra ship, non-Asgardian. . . it was a Vanaheim ship. 

A royal Vanaheim ship. 

The ships docked, a mix of Asgardian and Vanaheiman soldiers emerging. A rock formed at the pit of your stomach as the passengers disembarked. The Allfather, Queen Frigga, Prince Thor. . . 

“. . .Loki.” 

The whisper of his name was lost among the roars of the welcoming crowd. He smiled and waved animatedly -- _strange_. Despite his smiling face, there was something tired and ragged about his features. Some agonizing, dreadful feeling was clawing up your throat -- the cheers of the people soon turned into a nauseating white noise. You weren’t able to get to the front, but you were still able to see the two royal families standing side by side. 

Then hands joined together. 

Loki’s hand. 

And a woman’s. 

Your blood runs cold. Icy even. The world goes silent except for a solitary cheer that sneaks its way through your defenses. 

“. . . that’s her. . .!” 

No. 

“. . . That must be her. . .!” 

_Stop_. 

“. . . it must be. . . !” 

_Please_. 

“. . . Prince Loki’s _fiance_. . .!” 

  
  
  



	2. The Vanaheim Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to your childhood and a tea party gone awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note going forward: a large portion of uninterrupted italic text means that it is a flashback / memory.

_ It was a quiet winter night. Asgard was silent, from the palace to the outer farmlands -- every living being was at rest. Well, except you of course.  _

_ Another nightmare. You clutched a plush blanket tightly to your small frame, your tiny bare feet quietly padding against the gigantic palace hallways. You didn’t like to be cooped up alone in the darkness of your room, still so stark and bare.  _

_ “Mama. . . Papa. . .” you murmured, remnants of snot and sniffles still red on your face. It hadn’t been long since you started living at the palace. Everything was so noisy, so chaotic, so many new things you had to learn-- most of the days, you just hid in your allotted room or in the library. You didn’t like how the ladies were always fussing, didn’t like how the master scholars were always so stern and strict. But now, when the palace was mute and at rest, it brought you comfort to be able to walk alone through its hallowed hallways.  _

_ Snow fell peacefully outside, blanketing the world in a powdery layer of white. You suddenly came to a stop, seeing a small solitary figure sitting on a bench in the courtyard. It looked like a boy. _

_ You wrapped your blanket around you snuggly. Still barefoot, you didn’t mind the icy sensation of snow beneath your toes or the gentle wind that blew straight through your thin blanket and pajamas. Approaching him, the boy’s back turned toward you, you could see that he was dressed in rich emerald sleepwear, his head a lovely shade of midnight that matched the sky. But most curious of all was his skin -- blue and engraved with winding markings. _

_ “Aren’t you cold?”  _

_ The boy’s head whipped around, flinching at the unknown voice. Scarlet eyes, timid and fearful; the blue skin seemed to stretch all over him, even more intricate markings on his face. The boy shot up from his seat, wanting to escape, but you held up a hand in comfort.  _

_ “No, I’m sorry--!” you voiced softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”  _

_ “You--” his words were quiet, hesitant. He arched a questioning brow at you; or at least you think he did. He didn’t appear to have any brows, really. “Who are you?”  _

_ You gave him your name, explaining who your parents were, and how you were new to the palace. “I just -- I have these bad dreams. I walk to clear my mind. I’m. . . I’m sorry if I scared you.”  _ _   
  
_

_ “Scared  _ me _?” he questioned with a slight upturn of his mouth; he approached you, straightening his back. He was taller than you, maybe older too on closer inspection. “Are you--” he paused. “. . . Are  _ you _ not scared of  _ me _?”  _

_ “I don’t think so. . .” This time you approached, feet crunching the soft snow below. You both stood on either side of the small marble bench, you yourself stretching your neck to look closer at him. “I mean, I don’t feel any fear, if that’s what you’re asking.”  _

_ “Really?” he laughed, his ruby eyes twinkling as their corners crinkled delicately. “You. . . What a weird girl you must be.” _

_ “Hmph--” you huffed, plopping down on one half of the seat, wrapping your blanket tighter around you. “I wish people would stop calling me that. All the ladies and lords say I’m ‘weird’ enough already.”  _

_ “Oh. . .uh,” he slowly lowered himself to sit next to you, hands folding politely in his lap. “Well, if it’s any consolation, people are usually not as open as you are to my. . . nature.” _

_ “Your nature?” You looked at him with a quizzical eye, glancing up and down his seated form next to you. A mannered disposition, handsome features, and well-groomed. “What do you mean?”  _

_ The boy looked at you as if you were stupid. You snorted in response.  _

_ “Fine, don’t tell me then.”  _

_ “Really, you are so strange. . .” _

_ The two of you fell into a tranquil silence, watching the snow fall around you. It was a quiet world of whiteness and black skies, the soft glow of sleepy Asgard streets beyond. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw that the boy’s robes didn’t seem that thick at all, only wearing some thin pajamas like you. Although you tried to stop it, your conscience bit at you.  _

_ “Here.” You unwrapped your blanket from around you and draped over both of your laps.  _

_ “No, that’s not necessary--”  _

_ “Ah!” you held up a hand at his protests. “I’m getting cold just looking at you.”  _

_ “No, really, I do not--” _

_ “No keep it on--” _

_ “But I really don’t need it--” _

_ “No-” _

_ “But I--”  _

_ “Just wear the damn blanket!”  _

_ He flinched at your raised voice, eyes steeling. You had heard the word before when you saw two warriors talking to each other -- it ended in a fit of laughter. Maybe it wasn’t a good word after all? You wondered if you’d offended him, and immediately felt a flush of embarrassment at your brashness. You began to pull back on the cloth, “I-- I’m sorry. . . I didn’t mean to be rude--” _

_ “Well,” he pulled back on it, placing the material firmly back over his lap, even patting it down and tucking it beneath his legs. “It’s the first time I’ve ever heard a girl swear at me. Especially when I’m in this form.”  _

_ “Form?” you tilted your head.  _

_ His eyes latched onto yours. Red melted into a soft teal and blue skin faded into alabaster paleness like the falling snow. But his expression remained -- the trademark smirk of a young royal.  _

_ “Prince. . . Loki?”  _

\--

“ _ Marriage _ ?!” 

Your guttural screech echoed off the isolated hallway, having finally been able to pull Loki aside from the fanfare of his arrival. The palace was a hive of buzzing work; servants attending to the arrival of two royal families, integrating Vanaheim wants and needs for their stay, and -- oh yeah -- preparations for a  _ wedding _ . 

Loki gruffly tugged off his signature golden-horned helm, the clanking of his moving armor filling up the hallway. He strode angrily, trying to lose you, but you didn’t relent, simply running to match his furious pace.

“A  _ fiance _ , Loki? Did you  _ know _ ?” you craned your head to search for any sort of reaction on his face, but his sight was set straight ahead, refusing to even turn in your direction. “Loki?  _ Loki _ !” Still nothing. Fed up, you grabbed his armored shoulder, pushing all your might into getting him to look at you. “Damnit, Loki,  _ look at me _ \--!!” 

Suddenly, all the breath left your chest as you were slammed into a dark alcove of a nearby wall. Loki’s helmet fell loudly with a clamor on the floor nearby, forgotten completely. In the low light, Loki’s eyes burned into yours with a glimmering intensity. He was panting like an animal, obviously in one of his trademark rages. You know, the ones that always made him look  _ extra  _ sexy.  _ Fuck,  _ you wanted to be mad, but your straining heartbeat was already betraying you. Every part of his body held you against the wall; the sharp, hardened edges of his armor dug into your skin through the meager cloth of your dress. You had to hold in a whimper -- whether from pain or pleasure, you couldn’t tell. His arms caged you, his larger body looming over you, like prey caught in an inescapable trap. 

“You do  _ not _ order your prince,  _ woman _ ,” he growled in a low voice, practically breathing the words into your skin. “You will show me the respect I  _ deserve _ .” 

“This conduct isn’t becoming of a  _ prince _ , then, your highness,” you forced as much courage into your voice as you could, needing to hold firm against him, looking him straight in his eyes. “A prince  _ earns  _ respect -- it is never  _ demanded _ .” 

Loki’s eyes burned into your’s. Valhalla above, his eyes could kill you alone-- but you refused to look away. You searched them, needing to know the secrets and thoughts hidden beneath the sea green surface. Finally, something in the prince’s expression changed, softening, but still hard. 

“I. . . “ he murmured. You could feel the way his body began to relax against your’s. “I had no inclination about this betrothal,  _ truly _ . I. . .” he hung his head, resting his forehead against your chin. “. . . My mother never even gave me a chance to choose. It was already decided.” 

You understood immediately, gently cupping Loki’s cheek and bringing his eyes to meet your own -- finally, his true emotions were on display. Exhaustion, weariness,  _ fear _ . 

“Loki. . .” you breathed, stroking his cheek gently with your thumb as your other hand rested on the other side of his face, cupping both sides softly. The man leaned into your touch, eyes honest and pleading. 

“I fought my mother, Odin,  _ everyone  _ for days on end,” he chuckled without an ounce of humor. “Even Thor for a time tried his best to argue in my favor -- but that oaf could hardly bargain for a lower price at a marketplace.” 

You weakly smiled at that, continuing to stroke his cheeks encouragingly. “And then?” 

“And then. . .” he sighed, his brows crossing in silent frustration. “And then I am being introduced to the Vanaheim princess. Being shown roadmaps and plans for the futures of both our realms. Being reminded of how such actions are my  _ duty  _ to my throne and name.” 

You paused, carefully wondering you could possibly say in response to that. 

“Your duty. . .”

“Yes, my _ duty  _ as a prince of Asgard.”

“A prince who can’t even make a decision as to who he can choose as a  _ wife _ ?” 

A snicker. “Apparently not.” 

“Not even offer the decency of time or warning?” 

“Another luxury, according to Odin.” 

“And they told you it was to better both realms?”

“In every argument against my own--”

You scoffed.

“What a load of horse shit.” 

Loki suddenly pulled out of your grasp, eyes wide, face unreadable. The sudden emptiness of his body chilled your skin anxiously. For a split second, you thought that he was angry, that you finally stepped just too far -- but then his face broke out into a toothy grin, falling back to laugh fully, shoulders heaving. The man’s unrestrained laughter reverberated off the hallways and it was the most beautiful sound in all the universe. 

“ _ Mercy _ , woman!!” Loki roared with laughter, trying to catch his breath. “Why didn’t  _ I  _ say that? Just imagining the look on Odin’s face --  _ Haha _ !”

“What?” you tartly retorted. You broke out into a wild smile of your own, lightly giggling at the prince’s lightened mood. “No one spoke with such honesty?”

“Honesty, my dear, is a triviality in matters such as these,” he paused, straightening himself out and returning to lean against the wall directly to your left side. Loki calmed, staring into the empty hallway. “Besides, I  _ am  _ the God of Lies. It’s not as if I cannot take what I serve to others.” 

“Oh,  _ please _ , don’t use that as an excuse. That doesn’t make it any less fair,” you joined him in his aimless staring, clasping your hands behind your back, feeling the stone wall against your fingers. “You should have the freedom to make your own choices.” 

Loki looked over at you, and you returned it; your respective cheeks were pressed against the wall as you stared at each other intently. He didn’t need to say anything -- the look of gratitude in his eyes was enough. 

_ Hm?  _ Some strange scent pricked at your nose. . . was that coming from Loki? The smell was so unnoticeable and minute that to anyone else it would’ve been completely imperceptible -- but it was a scent that in no way belonged to him. It smelled. . .  _ sweet _ ? 

“What is. . .” you sniffed the air between you, leaning in closer. Loki froze in place, noticing his hooded eyes following your shifting movements. You couldn’t read his expression. “What is that smell. . .?”

He uttered your name in a terse laugh. “Woman, why do you sniff me like a dog?”

_ Ah, it’s gone.  _

“Does my scent attract you  _ that  _ much?” he smirked. Your eyes whipped up to meet his, a rush of heat flooding your face.  _ Gods _ , you were too close. You couldn’t help but glance at his lips, slightly parted, slightly pink and just  _ wanting  _ \-- no. No, you needed to stop. 

“In your dreams, my  _ prince _ ,” you retorted, turning to leave. 

“Ah, ah--” he caught your wrists, pinning them beside you against the wall once again. His grip was tight, taunting. “So you’ve been in my dreams, then, my dear?” he whispered against your ear, his lips ghosting over its shell. A shiver ran down your spine, and you bit your lip to keep any noise from escaping you. He pulled back and ran his eyes over your face. “Tell me, did you like what you see? Did you. . .” he purred, coming nose to nose and enjoying the sight of you squirming.” . . .  _ Enjoy  _ yourself?” 

_ Valhalla above, you have  _ no  _ idea.  _ You cleared your suddenly dried throat, desperately fisting your hands to hide your clamminess. This was just him teasing -- you could handle this, just like you always did. 

“Why, do you see me in your dreams, Loki? Does the sight of  _ me  _ in your sleep excite  _ you _ that much?” you cracked, as nonchalant as you could muster. But his eyes darkened to a gorgeous cobalt blue, and suddenly, your knees buckled. Loki noticed with a chuckle, pushing you harder against the wall, knee between your legs to keep you up -- so  _ close  _ to a quickly heating throb in your lower stomach. You couldn’t stop a gasp fall from your lips when his leather-clad thigh brushed against you. Something deep rumbled from Loki’s throat. 

Something was different about him.  _ Was he still . . . teasing?  _

“ _ My  _ dreams--” he pushed against your wrists harder, something behind his eyes making his eyebrows furrow in thought. His mouth opened and closed, words escaping him -- how peculiar. What could make Loki’s silver-tongue twist? “My dreams. . .  _ you _ . . .”

_ Ding-Dong, Ding-dong.  _

The palace chimes that signalled the midday hour broke the moment, Loki quickly letting you go and abruptly spacing himself from you. His face was stony once more, his eyes darting -- like you had caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. 

“Loki--”

“I must--. . . I must return,” he interrupted coldly. The prince didn’t stay to listen any more, only snatching up his discarded helm on the floor, and leaving you in the dark silence of the hallway. 

\---

Later that afternoon, a fanciful spread of dainty sweets, pastries, and delights of every variety were spread lavishly over the long garden table, adorned beautifully with the season’s flowers and foliage. The afternoon sun beamed brightly down onto another one of Frigga’s famous garden tea parties, making the porcelain, crystal, and gold-plated tableware glisten -- it was extra extravagant with the addition of the Vanaheiman guests. Although you had tried again to use your work as an excuse to skip, the Allmother was resolute in having every noblewoman in the palace attend this time in order to properly meet the foreign guests. 

You sat silently poking your food luckily sitting near some amiable ladies, Nessie seated across from you. Etoile and her gang of followers were nearer to the Allmother -- Frigga herself was seated at the head of the long table, of course, surrounded on each flank by some ladies of Vanaheim. One stood out among the others, seated directly at her majesty’s right. 

Princess Angrboda of Vanaheim. Loki’s . . .  _ betrothed _ . 

“Allmother,” she began in a chiming voice, beaming perfectly white teeth with a curl of her rosy lips. “I don’t think I have ever tasted such scrumptious sweets before! Pray, are all foods on Asgard  _ this  _ wonderful?” 

“Oh, my sweet child, I’m so glad you love them as much as I do! These cakes are a personal favorite of mine,” she handed her another plate of a petite layered cake. “And so long as you are here on Asgard, I hope you delight in their excess, Angrboda.” The two women giggled together happily, and you had to physically force yourself from rolling your eyes. 

_ Keep it together. Keep it together _ . 

You noticed that you weren’t the only one made uncomfortable by the mushy display. Lady Sif was invited as well -- like you, she regularly sought to excuse herself from these functions whenever possible, but was forced to sit through the present meal. Admittedly, you had a bit of a lady-crush on her; strong, valiant, noble, resilient, intelligent and undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women on Asgard. She was a fearsome warrior to boot, being able to match even Thor in battle. You never got to interact with her much, though, both of you staunchly committed to your spheres of work. She chewed on a salad slowly, hoping that it would avoid having anyone talk to her. It seemed to be working --

“And you, Lady Sif, I have heard you are a great warrior of Asgard, no?” 

Nevermind. 

“Yes, princess?” Sif brusquely answered through a bite. 

“A fearsome womanly warrior, quite the sight to behold,” Angrboda leaned forward across the table leisurely, as if she were already a host herself. “In Vanaheim, the ladies there could never even begin to fathom achievements such as yours, Lady Sif.” 

“Thank you, your highness,” Sif nodded curtly. You kept your head down low, having picked up on the princess’ subtle notes of condescension. Few other ladies round the table seemed to notice; the ones that did seemed to agree, snickering and murmuring among themselves. 

_ Keep it together _ . 

“Perhaps you could tutor me in the arts of battle some time? However, I admit,” Angrboda outstretched her hands, holding them up in the light, twisting and twirling them as if they were dancing, “My hands may be much too delicate to carry such weapons like a sword or axe or the like. What do you think, Lady Sif? Aren’t my hands much too fragile?” 

The onlookers at the table watched in awe as Angrboda continued to gracefully display her lithe hands, hums and nods of agreement all around, but to some like you and Lady Sif -- her pretenses fell short. 

“Wars have been waged with even smaller hands than yours, princess,” Sif asserted, leaning back and folding her muscled arms over her chest. She cocked her head, “But yes, I admit -- your hands do look quite weak.” 

“ _ Pfft _ \--” 

Heads whipped around to face you, you hastily trying to cover up your laughter as a coughing fit. You took a heavy swig of your drink, clearing your throat. “I -- _cough --_ I apologize,” you swatted the air, as if it could clear the sudden awkwardness, subduing your mirth as best as possible. “Something caught in my throat.” 

The eyes slowly drifted back to Angrboda and Sif; the latter’s eyes glinted humorously while the former’s façade of perfect sweetness seemed to slip ever so slightly. You caught Sif glance at you -- a knowing look that you returned with a smile that you tried to cover up with another sip from your glass. Nessie peeked at you, too; she seemed just as amused, the two of you silently giggling. 

“Lady Sif,” Angrboda grit through clenched smiling teeth. “I am indeed  _ delicate  _ but not weak. I did well to choose my words to truly express myself clearly. My tutors have always commended me in my precision in the art of language, and admittedly, my etiquette as a whole. P _ erhaps _ ,” she leaned in closer, “Perhaps  _ I  _ could be your mentor in this respect.” 

An audible gasp ripped through the table. It was such a blatant attack of character that no one besides someone of royal blood like Angrboda could have the gall to even attempt it -- and Sif knew this. The latter had to keep her mouth shut -- it was the only option that wasn’t treason. 

In all this, you wondered why Frigga wasn’t doing anything. She usually had zero tolerance for such pettiness, especially when it was this obvious -- but when you turned to look at her, the Allmother’s gaze was focused to the side, suddenly lighting up with glee. 

“Thor, Loki -- my sons! There you are!” 

The Allmother got up from her seat to greet the approaching figures of her sons; the rest of the table rose as well, the custom for welcoming royalty into the room. You were not supposed to crane your head around or slouch your figure in an unlady-like fashion, but you couldn’t help but at least try to eye the two new guests. The two were in their usual garbs: Thor in his signature colors of crimson and silver, in armor that highlighted his immense arm muscles and beefed physique, while Loki was dressed in his classic emeralds, black, and gold in a tunic that emphasized his lean, muscled figure -- much more understated and much more pleasing to your eyes. 

Sea green irises caught your sneaking glances; you pulled away hurriedly, already feeling your face heat up.  _ Stars, how did he always catch you looking?  _

“Please, Mother -- ladies-- sit,” Thor motioned as Frigga returned to her seat, the table obeying the command and falling back down. Frigga held each one of their hands in her own, looking up at them expectedly. “You called for us, Mother?”

“Oh yes, well for  _ Loki _ , mostly,” she glanced over at Angrboda, releasing Thor’s hand to extend it to the princess. “I think I’ve taken up enough of her time. The two of you deserve some alone time.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek --  _ hard _ .  _ Keep it together. Keep it together _ . You plopped some type of puff onto your plate, cutting mindlessly into the pastry, obsessively counting the seeds of its glazed strawberry that rested atop it. 

“Ah, Mother. . .” you didn’t look up, but you could hear the raggedness in Loki’s voice. “The princess must be exhausted from her trip, perchance it would be better if she simply rested--” 

“Nonsense!” the eager princess bounced up from her seat, rushing to get to the man’s side. You couldn’t stop yourself from raising your head fully and looking on unabashedly as she intertwined her fingers with his. “I am not tired in the slightest. In fact,” she leaned in to rest snuggle her head against his shoulder, “It would be a great felicity to have  _ you  _ as my guide, my prince.” 

_ Keep it together.  _

The princess stroked a hand against his chest, trailing her fingers over their silver plating. You could see Loki’s subtle attempts to space himself from her. 

_ Keep.  _

She intertwined an arm with his and squeezed. He grimaced. 

_ It. _

Her head leaned in. . .

_ Together _ . 

Angrboda planted a swift kiss on his cheek. 

“I--!”

The table shook with the sudden force as you stood up abruptly. Your mind was going a million miles a second, your eyes refusing to look away from Loki’s that had caught onto your’s the moment you stood. “I -- I . . .” your wits flailed about you, your checks feeling like they must be going a thousand shades of red. You couldn’t help but stare into Loki’s eyes -- they seemed even more tired than when you saw him earlier that day. You just wanted to know if he was okay, if he was going to be alright --

The raven haired man swallowed, your eyes watching the bobbing of his throat. Loki smiled with the tiniest nod -- and that was enough for you to understand. 

“I . . . I apologize once again, your majesty,” addressing Frigga with a slight bow, then turning to bow to the rest of the table, “My ladies. I thought I saw -- erm, I thought I saw some bug crawling by my feet, but I appear to have been mistaken. I apologize for the fuss I made.” 

“Bugs? Are there such creatures here?” Angrboda cut before you could finally return to your seat. Hey eyes squinted in your direction, expecting an answer. 

“Well, your highness, this  _ is  _ a garden. . .” you laughed, thinking the princess must be joking. But her pouty lips remained fixed. 

“In Vanaheim, we’ve devised a system to keep all such bothersome creatures from being pestilences to our sights. Is there not such a system in Asgard?” she jeered. You looked over at Frigga and the princes, but their expressions were statuesque --  _ why  _ in the Nine Realms were they being so lenient in the face of such explicit offense? 

“My princess, there are no such systems implemented in Asgard. Our creatures roam freely, even if they do pose as ‘ _ pestilences _ ’ to our eyes,” you mutely laughed at the harsh word she had used. Still, the princess seemed unamused, tutting annoyedly. 

“Really, what a  _ subordinate  _ way to live--”

“ _ Princess Angrboda _ !” Sif’s commanding voice shook the air, as she now stood up at the table. Her face was taught, seeming to calm herself through strained breaths -- but her fierce eyes were ablaze. “Princess, you forget yourself -- We are  _ not  _ in Vanaheim. Do not  _ dare  _ speak in such a manner in the presence of the Allmother and the crown princes.” 

A tense pause, as if the air was sucked right out of the atmosphere. No one moved. Now, you were  _ really  _ curious -- in any other situation, Thor would already be clamouring with Sif, Frigga would be scolding and ordering, and Loki would be basking in the glory of raining down chaos and righteousness. But none of that was happening.  _ Nothing _ was happening. The three Odinsons weren’t doing  _ anything _ .

Angrboda shook her head. Still with an arm linked to Loki’s, she leaned in to whisper something to Frigga. Frigga nodded smally, then facing the rest of the table with a look of practiced lightheartedness. 

“My ladies, I’m afraid to have to cut our tea short. Thank you all for attending today. . .” 

Frigga’s words continued as ladies left the table, disheartened and confused -- this would surely be a raucous topic for the gossip mill in the coming days. Sif got up to leave as well, but the Allmother’s gentle hand on her shoulder pressed her back into her seat. You shot a look at her, seeing just as much confusion on her face. You glanced at Loki--  _ “Just listen and don’t ask any questions _ ,” his eyes seemed to say, and although it was the last thing you wanted to do, you complied.

You were one of the last ladies to filter out of the courtyard, letting Nessie trail ahead of you back into the palace building. Finally, you were alone in the outer hallways. Just outside the courtyard’s entrance, you found a cozy divet in a massive stone pillar, stealthily slinking into its shadows and waiting, watching. Straining your ears, you could only hear faint chatter and chirping birds. Your mind raced with curiosity as to what was happening -- footsteps. You peeked around the corner of the pillar and saw the retreating figures of the Allmother and Thor as they sped off in the opposite direction, engrossed in their own conversation. Still no sign of Lady Sif, Angrboda, or Loki. You waited some more. And waited. And waited.  _ Are they still in there _ ? 

_ Quack! _

The unmistakable noise of rushing water sounded from the gardens; then. . . quacking? The sound of rustling tableware and quacking faintly made its way to your ears; you leaned in more around the stone column, but whipped back at the approaching figures. Footsteps. Loki’s light steps paired with the clack of Angrboda’s heels -- you didn’t dare to try to catch a glimpse of them. You released a breath you didn’t know you had been holding when you realized that their footsteps seemed to be getting further away --

“I thought you were told to  _ leave _ , woman.” 

Loki’s sudden visage at your side made you squeal in surprise, but his large hand shot out to clasp at your mouth, pushing you back against the wall, hiding your figure with his own -- his black locks swayed around him as he peered over his shoulders. He whispered your name with a curse, snarling, “ _ Quiet _ , will you! Do you want me to be caught by that harpy?” 

You pulled away at his hand, finally letting your mouth take in air. “Wait, but I thought you were just with--”

“With  _ Angrboda _ ? Oh, please --” Loki sneered, pulling back with a casual shrug. “I would no way find any  _ pleasure -- ugh -- _ in being in that girl’s company.”

“Then, just now--” 

He raised a knowing brow at you. 

“-- Ah, of course,” you sighed with a tired laugh. “A clone.” 

“Indeed,” Loki leaned in closer, trapping you under his intense stare. “Although,” his smirk glinted deviously in the light. “What was this I heard about a  _ bug _ ?” 

“That--” your eyes suddenly darted to the side, training on a fixture on the wall. You could still feel Loki’s stupid shit-eating grin. “I-- I really did see one. It startled me. That’s all.” 

“Truly?” you could feel the humor in his voice, the way his breath fanned over your cheek. “Was that  _ all _ ?” 

_ Sweet Norns on high, give me strength.  _ “Y-yes,” you replied, more breathy than you had wanted. “That was all.” 

“Pity. . . and here I thought,” his lips trailed innocently by the side of your face, as if mimicking in painful, blissful agony what Angrboda had done before. “That you were concerned for the chastity of my cheek.”

“Loki, please--” you hated when you had to ask, but this was getting to be too much. Your face burned, your legs shook, your blood pumped furiously in your chest. You didn’t dare to move your face; if you did, his lips might actually come into contact with your heated skin. Your hands however, pushed gently against his chest to further yourselves. “Please, just -- stop teasing me, would you --” 

“‘ _ Teasing _ ,’ she says,” Loki’s hands, ever cool to the touch, wrapped gently around your hands, holding them firmly against his chest. “What a cruel way to put it, my dear.” 

_ Cruel?  _ You felt Loki’s face finally retreat, and you cautiously turned back to look into his eyes. You were suddenly floored with what you saw -- his eyes were dark, a hauntingly gorgeous shade of azure. His mouth was slightly parted, shortly breathing; his thumbs rubbed over your hands, gently, so gently. Loki’s face looked at you so  _ tenderly.  _ Your confusion multiplied ten-fold. 

You were about to open your mouth when a particularly loud quack -- followed by the crash of plates-- pulled your focus. You tried to move to look into the courtyard, but Loki’s grip suddenly became firm. His expression shifted into a crafty grin, not letting you escape his grasp. The cogs of your mind shifted into place. 

“Loki--” your voice hardened. “ _ Where _ is Lady Sif?” 

“What--” he chuckled mischievously. “Whatever do you mean?”

You gruffly pushed him aside, despite his words of protests and hands still trying to keep you from looking. You swiftly made your way to the courtyard, Loki still trying to hold you back, trailing at your feet. Your feet stilled at the sight before you. 

“It was only a harmless joke--” 

  
“You turned her into a  _ duck _ \--?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I actually had to cut this chapter short since it was running a bit long.   
> Any comments and suggestions always mean the world to me!


	3. Back to a Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quack! Quack!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone that has commented!! I read and reply to every single one, and it honestly is the highlight of my day. I'm so happy people are enjoying the story so far!

  
  


_ “You turned her into a duck--?!”  _

Your eyes widened at the fearsome warrior’s now cuddly feathered appearance, making a mess of the long garden table. She was covered in cake and frosting, her bill chomping at a salad. Your eyes turned to Loki’s, incredulous. “A  _ duck _ , Loki?” 

“Why, would you have preferred I had turned her into a goose instead--”

“I would have  _ preferred  _ if she were still a woman!” you seethed Your focus returned to the scene, cautiously approaching the woman-now-duck. 

“ _ Quack--! Quack. . . “  _ the mallard fluttered its wings in a panic, eyeing you carefully. 

“ _ Shh _ \-- hey, it’s okay, Lady Sif, it’s only me. . .” you held up your hands disarmingly, making calming gestures and coos. 

Loki huffed your name with an annoyed click of his tongue behind you, “Really, woman, you’re overreacting--” 

You only shot him your best stink eye over your shoulder. The prince’s form was totally non-plussed, arms crossed and watching on in amusement. You shook your head, returning to the task at hand. Eventually, Sif calmed enough for you to pick her up, cradling her gently-- the bird relaxed, snuggling into the crook of your arms. Your dress was stained by frosting and your eyes turned steely against the perpetrator. “Loki,  _ why _ ? You know you’re never going to hear the end of this from  _ her _ \--” motioning your head down toward the sleepy duck in your arms, “-- or Thor.” 

“ _ Erm-- _ ” he shifted his stance, eyes drifting. He cleared his throat with a shrug, “Like I said before -- a harmless prank.”

“I understand  _ that  _ \-- what I don’t understand is  _ why _ ,” you stepped closer, judgement laden in your expression. “This was totally unprompted. . . .  _ unless _ ,” -- and Stars you hoped you were wrong-- “. . . You did this for Princess Angrboda.” 

Loki’s eyes locked onto your’s, his mouth straight and firm, seemingly wanting to argue -- but nothing came. He didn’t deny it. You were stunned, taking a step back, processing whatever this meant; Loki detested helping others, and with his recent attitudes, it was obvious he abhorred the princess in equal measure. But then. . . _ why _ ? 

_ He likes her. For all his cruel words and bile, Loki is attracted to her _ . Loki was proud, rude, and detached -- but he was still a man. He was a man, and Angrboda was an undeniably beautiful,  _ beautiful  _ woman -- a  _ literal  _ goddess. You knew Loki had had lovers in the past, but they were all one-night flings with courtesans and visitors; you knew the situation now was vastly different.  _ They’re engaged. They will be wed.  _

“Your expression is damning, woman,” Loki sniggered at your silence, but that didn’t distract from that vague look of guilt that you caught in his eyes. 

“So, it  _ was _ for her, then. . .” you muttered under your breath, so silent that the words barely made it out of your mouth at all. Clutching Sif tighter in your arms for comfort, stroking her feathers, your eyes were askance. You couldn’t look at him. You nodded your head nonchalantly, trying to cover up your emotions with lightness, “It’s good that you’re getting on better terms, at least.” 

“What?  _ No _ , such ridiculous assumptions--” he gripped your upper arm fiercely, forcing you to finally look up at him. You had hoped that you were hiding your feelings well enough, but a flinch of his eyes upon seeing your face made your heart clench.  _ Fuck _ . Loki spoke your name with a sad laugh, “. . .Norns,” he craned his neck to get a closer look at you, you trying your best to keep a distance. “Why do you have such an expression on your face? Did this silly joke really upset you that much?” 

You didn’t answer, just shaking your head; his grip tightened, like he could physically squeeze an answer from you. You were grateful for Sif’s form at that moment; she was a comforting buffer. Finally, you managed to find your voice, “I’m just at a loss. Why would you do this for--”  _ For her _ . “-- for another person. Such a surprisingly  _ generous  _ gesture.”

“I am always  _ full  _ of surprises, my dear. Surely you of all people would know,” his grip softened to a gentle touch, his tone soothing as well. Your eyes dragged up to Loki’s, seeing his friendly gaze. 

“Don’t change the subject,” you reprimanded, but you knew Loki wouldn’t divulge anything further, seeing how high his barriers were about the topic. “But yes, yes I do know your tricks,” your emotions gradually ebbing. You sighed, “Ever a naughty man, aren’t you, Loki?” 

“ _ Naughty _ ,” the prince purred with a smirk. “Do you think so?” Something shifted in the air, tensing. Loki’s eyes darkened, slipping closer into your space. Your pulse hiccuped. The insinuations of your words suddenly dawned on you and your face flamed -- you held Sif higher on your chest defensively. 

“Just-- Just turn Lady Sif back into a person, would you?” 

“Hm. . .” he mused, tapping his pointer finger against his chin. “Why should I?” 

“Loki!”  _ Quack! _ You shoved Sif closer against him. “You can’t keep her like this!” 

“Oh, can’t I?” he arched a sly brow, and you knew for a fact that,  _ yes _ , he could keep her like this. The longest he’s ever kept someone in an animal form, a poor servant boy who accidentally spilled wine on one of his tunics, was stuck in the form of a rat for a solid year -- and even then, Loki only relented with Frigga’s intercession. “I don’t think your tone is very appealing to my mercy.” 

“ _ Mercy  _ my ass--” 

“What was that?” 

“Loki, you can’t possibly just leave her in this form!” 

_ Quack _ ! 

“Ah, maybe I  _ should  _ go,” he turned around, hands folding leisurely behind his head. “Perhaps darling Angrboda does need my actual attention--” 

“ _ Wait-- _ !” your arm surged forward, grasping the back of his tunic in a tight grip. He didn’t turn around, only leaning his face to side so you could make out the balls of his cheeks above smug upturned lips. 

“Yes, my dear?” 

_ Beg _ . Loki loved it when people grovelled at his feet, and he knew how much you hated doing it -- hated having to  _ beg  _ him to do something. So, it made it ten times more pleasurable when he got you to do it. With Sif growing more restless by the minute, you knew that it was not the time to be stubborn.  _ Unless _ . . . a positively wicked thought flashed across your mind.  _ Two can play this game _ . 

“ _ Loki _ . . . “ you coyly drawled in a breathy, teasing voice -- the man stiffened. Your hand gently spread out across his back, slowly trailing your fingers up the leather and over his spine. “Oh, so  _ naughty _ Loki. . .”

“ _ You-- _ ” you heard the crack of his voice, see the way his fists clenched tightly at his sides, the bob of his throat. His voice was low, guarded. “Yes. . .?” 

But you didn’t reply, only firming your fingers over his right scapula, massaging it -- Loki let out a breathless little moan.  _ Sweet Valhalla.  _

“You’re so tense, Loki. . .” you mused, stepping closer behind him, fully palming your hand against the hard muscles of his clothed back. You could tell that Loki tried to hide how he was feeling, but the slight sway of his head gave away that he was enjoying the impromptu massage. “You must be  _ so  _ tired. . . “

“ _ So  _ tired. . .” he agreed breathlessly, nodding lazily. 

“And  _ here _ \--” you pushed at a particularly hard muscle beneath his shoulder, Loki straining a hiss at the feeling. “--You’re just so  _ tense _ , too.”

“My recent duties haven’t exactly been very  _ relaxing,  _ my dear,” he tried looking back fully, but you just moved out of his eyesight. He clicked his tongue chidingly, “What are you doing? Let me face you, woman.” 

“Then how could I continue to feel your back, Loki?” you teased with a sharp squeeze at the base of his neck and shoulder -- he sharply inhaled. You smoothed your palm over it comfortingly. “You know, I do give quite the good back rub --” 

“ _ Yes _ ,” he suddenly cut, a tightness in his voice. “Yes-- I. . . yes, I  _ know _ ,” he breathed, as if calming himself. “You’ve. . . You’ve given me one before.” 

_ I have? _ You were puzzled, not clearly remembering any such thing, but shrugged and continued your one-hand ministrations. You rubbed, soothed, traced, touched -- every place you’ve wished and dreamed and  _ ached _ to touch with bare skin, you tried pouring it out into just this simple act. You could tell that Loki was struggling to fight against you, to keep up his resolve in this little prank -- but the way his shoulders leaned back to chase your retreating fingers, the way his head started to loll, and the way he just seemed to  _ melt _ . . . hook, line, and sinker, sucker. 

“I could give you one.”

“A. . . what?” his voice was dreamy, totally lost 

“A back rub, Loki, since it’s obvious you are in desperate need of one,” you stated matter-of-factly, hand pausing. “But of course, I’d need  _ both  _ hands to do that.” 

_ Quack _ ! 

His neck strained to finally look back at you, raven locks whipping around him. You could feel the burn of Loki’s newly invigorated glare -- but it wasn’t aimed at you. It was aimed at the innocent duck still in your arm. 

“ _ Leave her _ ,” he spat. You only raised an eyebrow at him, returning your hand to sooth Sif’s feathers. Loki spun around to face you fully, visibly struggling to keep his composure, snarling your name in frustration, “She will be perfectly fine as a bird for a few measly hours--”

“No, Loki, you need to change her back now! Lady Sif hasn’t done anything to deserve this!” you held her higher to his face, as if the cute mallard’s features could sway your cause; but Loki was having none of that, never having been affected by cute animals, swatting and grimacing at the mallard. 

“What she  _ ‘deserves’  _ is none of your concern, woman, now let her be so you can--” Something flashed across Loki’s eyes, some glint of gold; his posture straightened, suddenly alert, his face taut. His eyes seemed to look beyond you, sensing something. 

“Loki?” you held out an arm to touch him, but he caught your wrist, his eyes still darting back and forth across the courtyard. Wincing, some realization now cleared in his eyes. 

“ _ Shit-- _ ”

The prince suddenly pulled Sif from your arms, gruffly letting her fall to the grass below. _ Quack!  _ Lady Sif scuttled hurriedly away into some nearby bushes with a flourish of squawks and flapping wings. Before you could protest or question, he gruffly pulled on your wrist, hastily leading you under the cover of a nearby pagoda; he pushed you behind the shadow of a pillar, pulling you down with him to crouch near the floor. Loki pushed his pointer finger against your lip, commanding you to stay silent. You pushed it away, startled. 

“What’re you--?” your voice was cut off by Loki’s tender hand on your forehead, the prince starting to mutter an incantation. A soft jade glow glimmered over your body in a wave; you recognized it as a concealment spell.

“ _ Don’t  _ move, woman, and don’t you  _ dare  _ make a sound,” Loki commanded in a harsh whisper. You shuddered -- gods you didn’t want to, but  _ that  _ tone of voice always made your stomach flutter. You didn’t have the chance to even open your mouth before he was up on his feet, walking out of the pagoda with a new beaming grin plastered on his face.

“Princess Angrboda! How lovely it is to see you again!” 

_ Oh shit.  _ Still crouched hidden behind the pagoda’s pillar, you carefully peeked around to see the scene, heart pounding now with anxiety -- Loki and the princess were only a few steps beyond, and the latter  _ definitely  _ looked all shades of pissed off. 

“Prince  _ Loki _ ,” Angrboda’s eyebrow twitched, voice dripping with exasperation. “Now  _ why  _ would you have a  _ copy _ of yourself escort me?” She neared him, arms crossed, hip jutting out as her toe tapped against the ground. 

“Oh,  _ that _ ?” he laughed, waving off the words like he could wave away her bad mood. “Just some fun, sweet princess! Something to give you a taste of my ability with my Seidr while offering you the hospitality of a tour of the palace grounds of Asgard. I trust that it was an enjoyable experience, no?” 

“ _ No _ ,” she hissed. “At least until you suddenly vanished from my side halfway through you giving me a history lesson in the armory hall. You can understand my shock when my betrothed disappeared into nothingness.”

“Ah, well, I’ll keep that in mind next time,” Loki chuckled, putting his hand on her hip and you wanted to tear your eyes out at the sight; but he began to walk her back inside. “Now that you’ve found me, I can truly entertain you now--” 

_ Quack _ ! Sif suddenly ran out of the bushes in a flurry of feathers, racing behind Angrboda’s heel, nipping at her toes. The princess yelped, face flushing with fury. 

“ _ You _ \--!!” Angrboda made a lunge to kick at Sif, but Loki got between them, standing to soothe the woman’s rage. Yet, she didn’t seem to relent, now aiming her anger at him. “Why couldn’t you just  _ do  _ as I asked and inflict the pain and punishment she deserves, Prince Loki? Her insolence is intolerable even as that-- that  _ creature _ !” 

_Pain and punishment?_ You held in a small gasp. Everything clicked together -- Loki didn’t pull a prank on Sif. He gave her the lesser of two evils. _Of course that’s why he wouldn’t tell you_. Despite the situation, you bit down a small smile, recomposing yourself.

“Princess, she is a warrior  _ goddess  _ who is in close service to both the Allfather and my brother. Physical pain is no mystery to her,” he sighed with what you knew was feigned resignation. “It would do no good to punish her in such a way.  _ This  _ way--” he nodded toward the squabbling duck behind him, “-- is much more effective.” 

The princess seemed to want to continue to flame, but Loki stroked her hip and arms soothingly. Angrboda was still pissed, but her scowl abated to a pout. “. . . Humiliation,” she sneered. “I suppose that will do for now.” 

Loki nodded, Angrboda finally allowing him to lead her back inside the palace. Their footsteps faded further and further away, leaving you with just the company of a still feathery Lady Sif. 

\--- 

“You don’t have to do this, my lady -- I am perfectly fine. You’ve been extremely kind to me already,” Lady Sif commented as you continued your check-up on her body, looking for any abnormalities or remnants of Loki’s spell. She was taking it well, sitting atop an infirmary table in the medicinal wing of the castle. Like Loki had said, Sif’s bird body only lasted for about three hours; you had been with her that whole time, making sure she didn’t get hunted for the night’s supper or something. 

“Oh, don’t be silly,” you laughed, analyzing her arms for scaliness or feathers. Nothing out of the ordinary, thank the stars. “This is the least I could do.”

“That  _ princess _ \--” Sif bit her tongue, looking around the wing. There were only empty beds in the hallway, the faraway chatter of passing servants outside the only noise. 

“Don’t worry, I’m fairly certain that Princess Angrboda would never want to come here,” you motioned your gaze around to the simple hall. “She would probably consider it beneath her to do so.” 

“Ha! The priss wouldn’t, would she!” Sif hooted, mirth in her fierce eyes. “That princess is  _ bad  _ news -- and the  _ audacity  _ to speak in such a manner in front of the Allmother? It is beyond me how she is still in their good graces.” 

“Hm. . .” you mused, pondering that exact same thing. Even if she was Vanyr royalty, Frigga would never have allowed for such insolence. And Loki? He was being polite, accommodating, well-mannered -- downright  _ gentlemanly _ . “I suppose we must just trust that there are bigger pieces at play. . .”  _ What is the reason? There must be some advantageous powers in the mix; but what could the Vanyr have over Asgard?  _ “. . . And we must have faith that Prince Loki knows what he’s doing.” 

“Ah yes, put our faith in that conniving  _ trickster _ \--” You shot Sif a gentle glare; she held her hands up reassuringly. “-- but yes, I know, I know. My lady, you must express my thanks to him later. For-- for,  _ ahem _ . . . for helping me.”

“I think it would be better if you gave your gratitude to him directly,” you smiled, stepping back to do a final once-over. “I’m sure the prince would appreciate it, Lady Sif.” 

“Are you sure?” Lady Sif raised a teasing brow, leaning back confidently on her hands. “Even though I was a duck, I wasn’t blind, my lady.” 

“Oh, please--” you felt the heat rise to your face, hurriedly going over to a side table to clean up the first-aid supplies. “I have simply known Prince Loki for a while now. You should know! We are--” you hesitated, clearing your throat. “We are simply familiar with one another, I suppose.”

“Yes, well, I have known Loki for as long as you have and I’ve  _ never  _ seen him gaze at me as he does with you,” she giggled, loving how every word seemed to make you redder. “I can’t say I’m surprised though. You stick to his side like a loyal dog.” 

“I do  _ not _ !” you snapped, the box of medicines with a little more force than necessary. Gods, your face felt like it was on fire. 

“ _ Don’t  _ you?” Sif giggled candidly, shaking her head. “In all these years, whenever you’re not cooped up with the other scholars, you’re by his side -- staring at him with such  _ brazenly  _ adoring eyes!”

“ _ Lady Sif _ !” now you were the one to nervously check around the hall to see if you were still alone. “I wouldn’t-- I would  _ never  _ \--”

“What? Have feelings?” she scoffed, jumping off the table and stretching casually. “Believe me, I understand,” her eyes became distant, her voice quieting. Sif looked over at you, still smiling, but a sad wash over her expression. “I must say that I’m no stranger to it.” 

“Lady Sif, what do you mean--“ the words died halfway out of your mouth.  _ Norns, of course.  _ “. . . Thor?” 

She shrugged. “It was many years ago now -- water under the bridge. He knows how I feel,” Sif sighed. “How I  _ still  _ feel -- but I am content as long as I am near him, that I can see that meat-headed oaf smile and be happy,” she quipped with a small laugh. 

You nodded, the both of you sharing the same morose, knowing eyes.  _ Yes, that’s it exactly.  _ You wanted to say something, anything, but you just couldn’t find the words -- you didn’t want her to tell you what you already knew. A truth that was thrown back at her love -- a truth that you had been fighting with every inch of your heart to realize.

_ It’s impossible _ . 

“Thank you again, my lady, for keeping me company in such a form. I will be sure to thank the prince for his -- eh. . .  _ kindness _ . And I’ll definitely be steering clear of that princess from now on,  _ ugh _ ,” she winced, as if only the mention of her was disgusting. Lady Sif did one final stretch of her legs and back, a heavy sigh flowing from her mouth. 

“It was of no trouble, don’t worry about it at all, Lady Sif.”

“Please, Sif is just fine, my lady.”

“Then I insist you use my name, too.”

Sif heartily laughed, saying your name with gladness; then, she outstretched her arms. You looked at her questioningly before she scoffed. “You don’t expect me to leave you without a proper hug, do you?” 

You giggled, coming over to accept her ginger hug; admittedly, you thought it would be something awkward, a quick pat on the back and that’s that. But no; it was a real embrace, Sif’s strong arms around you firmly. She smelled like berries and grass, like she was summer itself. You finally melted into the hug, accepting it with a grin -- Sif was more like Thor than you had anticipated. All this time, you thought she was this battle-hardened, stone-cold warrior; but in actuality, Sif was warm and gentle, a truly strong and caring woman through and through. 

“We  _ must  _ hang out more, Sif,” you giggled as she released you from her arms. “I could tell you about all the stories Loki has told me about Thor.” 

“And I to you with Thor’s recounts of Loki,” she beamed; the warrior readjusted her armor and tunic, already making her way out of the wing. “Thank you again, my friend!” she called out with a wave. 

“Until next time, Sif!” you called back with a wave of your own, but you were sure she didn’t see it. 

\---

_ “Damn him!! Damn that fucking old man--!” _

_ The bedchamber’s doors violently burst open, Loki’s sudden rage echoing off his room’s gold walls; you jumped from where you were, comfortably reading a book at his bedside study. You had been recently allowed the leisure to wait for him there so you could teach Loki more about chess -- Frigga thought it was wonderful that Loki had finally been taking up some hobby besides plaguing the courtesans and advisors with his tricks.  _

_ “Loki, what--” you got up, trying to soothe him, but he swatted your hands away. “What’s wrong?”  _

_ “What’s wrong? What’s  _ wrong _?!” his voice continued to rise, his intense rage consuming his face completely. He got in your face, spitting out his words like they were bullets, “You stand there and  _ dare  _ to ask me what’s wrong?! Who are  _ you  _ to ask such a question of me? You absolutely stupid girl -- why are you even  _ here _?!”  _

_ Loki was in a fit of rage -- although you had seen it before, it still scared you. It’s a total blind rampage, razing through anything in his way. Last time, a servant girl was caught in the fray; she had to be discharged from service on grounds of irreversible psychological damage. You hid your trembling with clenched teeth. You took in a silent deep breath, praying for strength.  _

_ “Prince Loki,” you made no moves, only staring back into his frenzied sea eyes. “I’m here because I want to be.”  _

__

_ “You--” the answer seemed to startle him, his brows furrowing now a bit in confusion. His tone lowered, his heaving chest slowing. “You -- you want--” _

_ “Yes, I want to be here. Your mother let me wait for you,” you looked over to the chess set on his study table, smiling. “You wanted to learn more about chess, right?”  _

_ “You waited?” The storminess in his eyes began to clear, that vein in his forehead returning to rest. He ran a finger through his hair, collecting himself, stepping back from you. He flopped down on his bed, deflating. “You waited. I see.”  _

_ “Quite a while too, but of course,” you looked him up and down, seeing his shoulders already beginning to sag from fatigue. “I can go if this isn’t a good time.” _

_ You turned to pick up your book and chess set, but he gripped your wrist. “No--” he started, gripping your wrist firmly. “No--I. . . I didn’t mean--” _

_ You nodded your head with a small upturn of your lips, understanding his gibberish. You slipped from his grasp, and he seemed to want to protest at the loss of your contact, but you just as quickly came back with the chess set in your hands; laying it down on the bed in the space in between the two of you, you quickly laid out the board and prepared the pieces. Loki watched on in fascination.  _

_ “Chess is a game of strategy, skill,” you explained, setting the pieces in their starting positions. “You don’t just play the game. You play the opponent.”  _

_ “Obviously,” Loki snorted, the traces of his earlier rampage already dissipating, reverting back to his usual sardonic self. “I can see why my brother would struggle so extraordinarily at this.”  _

_ You giggled -- Loki had first encountered the game as you were trying to explain its rules to Thor. After a good bout of the former trying to ridicule and deride the game, Loki was quickly enraptured by the moving pieces. You beat Thor easily, but you saw how Loki was itching to touch and move the pieces himself. He didn’t say anything afterwards, but you could tell the prince was dying to learn more; you indulged him by offering to teach him. He accepted it with a superior air of “whatever,” but you caught the way his eyes sparkled.  _

_ “My father always told me that the game is about moves and counter-moves -- like a war,” you placed the final piece in its place. “Actually, the history of the game on Midgard is based in real-world war tactics, their kings of old used to--” _

_ “Yawn!” Loki stretched, like a cat getting comfortable in its seat. “Won’t you just tell me how to play already?”  _

_ You rolled your eyes, but laughed. “Which color do you want?”  _

_ Loki’s eyes roamed over the black and white board, humming. “Black.”  _

_ “Of course you would want black,” you scoffed, turning that side to his direction.  _

_ “What’s that supposed to mean?”  _

_ “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you chortled. You expected that Loki would bite back, but nothing came. In fact, the prince had a faint little smile on his angelic features -- your heart fluttered. Woah. That’s never happened before.  _

_ “What does this piece do. . . ?” He reached out to pick up one of his knights.  _

_ You began your lesson, teaching him about the different pieces and the way they moved. He latched onto every word, asking you his own questions in turn. Soon enough, you were playing -- and your winning streak was aggravating him immensely.  _

_ “You’re cheating somehow, girl, I just know it,” he accused. You shook your head, chuckling, only rolling your eyes. Loki stretched his shoulder, suddenly wincing in pain.  _

_ “Loki, are you--?” _

_ “It’s fine!” he raised a defensive palm, his other hand still massaging his shoulder. “I’m fine just -- ah! -- just a bit tired, that’s all.”  _

_ You thought for a moment, then rose to your feet, coming to stand in front of him as he continued to sit on the bed; he looked at you questioningly. “What are you doing, girl?”  _

_ “Lay back face-down, Loki,” you pointed at the bed space behind him, your other hand on your hip. He looked back at you like you were speaking in tongues. You rolled your eyes, “Just do it, Loki!”  _

_ The prince flinched at your command, so unused at being ordered -- but he slowly relented, much to your surprise. You expected a little resistance, at least. But no, he lowered himself to lay down on his emerald sheets, stretching out his limbs comfortably. Loki’s face jutted out the side, his cheek planted firmly against his bed.  _

_ “If you do anything weird to me, I’ll cut off your hands.”  _

_ “Yeah, yeah. . “ you hiked up your skirt, Loki’s eyes going wide.  _

_ “What--” his voice cracked, suddenly coming up on his elbows; his eyes roamed at the sight of your suddenly bare legs, just below the knees. “What  _ are  _ you doing?”  _

_ “Calm down, Loki,” you climbed up on the bed beside him, your weight dipping his body near your own. You settled the skirt back down over your legs, kneeling, but his eyes were still glued to them as if he could still see the bare skin. “It’s just so I can reach better. Now lay back down!” _

_ His eyes flitted to yours for only a moment, a last second of reassurance, before finally planting his cheek back on the mattress. Finally, your hands planted themselves firmly against his back.  _

_ “Ah--!” Loki squirmed, but you held him down gently.  _

_ “Relax,” you soothed. “It’s only a massage.”  _

_ It took some time, but Loki eventually became pliable at your fingertips. His eyes were close, and you half thought he was sleeping; but every so often, a quiet ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ would escape him. It was fortunate he was wearing a thinner dark green tunic; your hands could better feel the curves of his developing back muscles, feel the imprints of his spine, trace the lines of his strong shoulders. Loki was already beginning to develop into a young man -- you could already see it in the way other young girls of your age ogled at him in the palace hallways.  _

_ “So, earlier. . .” you hesitated, wondering if this was the right thing to do. “Earlier, why were you mad?” Loki was silent for a while, and that was fine. You just continued to massage him; but eventually, he spoke with a strained breath.  _

_ “My father.” _

_ “A fight?” _

_ “Mm.” _

_ “About?” _

_ Another silence, longer this time. “Family.” _

_ “Oh.” _

_ And you left it at that, not wanting to bring up the particularly sensitive topic any further.  _

_ Your fingers dug into a particular spot in between his shoulder blades; the boy purred at the feeling.  _

_ “Ah, do you like it there?”  _

_ Loki stiffened under you. You paid it no mind though, digging into that spot again -- a louder moan escaped him this time. From your position though, it was a bit awkward to repeat the motion, your wrists straining at the uncomfortable angle. You huffed, retracting your hands.  _

_ “This won’t work. . .” you muttered.  _

_ “What are you -- oof!”  _

_ The prince’s words were cut off as you swung a leg over him, now straddling his lower back; you kept most of your weight on your knees, ghosting over him. The side of his face looked back at you with gaping eyes, from your now bared legs to your face; he was about to say something, but it was cut off again as you returned to massage him in this new position.  _

_ “Yup, that’s much better,” you mused to yourself. This position was indeed leagues more comfortable than kneeling awkwardly at his side; your hands were able to twist and bend against his muscles in new ways, earning a cacophony of renewed sighs and groans. You saw Loki’s eyes roll back. Wow, you thought. Loki must’ve really needed this.  _

_ “. . . Off.” _

_ “Hm?”  _

_ “Get off me, girl,” his voice was low, but assertive.  _

_ “Are you sure? I can still tell that you’re tense--” _

_ “Just get off, would you?” he grit. You shrugged, rolling your legs back together on the same side. But Loki didn’t roll over or make any movements to get up -- in fact, he seemed to just tense like a log.  _

_ “Loki, you okay?” you craned your head to look closer down at his face, but he just flipped his cheek over to the other side, refusing to look at you -- but you managed to sneak a peek at the slightest tint of rosiness on his pale cheeks.  _

_ “Yes, I’m fine-- just--” he stuttered. “I think I’ll go to bed now.”  _

_ You nodded, rising from the bed, beginning to clean up the chess pieces and set. Loki still hadn’t moved an inch, not even to look at you. Soon all your things were in your arms -- but still, Loki was laying face-down like a log on his mattress.  _

_ “Are you sure you’re fine, Loki? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”  _

_ “No, fool, don’t be ridiculous--” he stopped himself with a cough. “No, I’m. . . I’m fine.”  _

_ “If you say so,” you sighed, adjusting your things in your arms. “Goodnight then, Loki.”  _

_ “Goodnight. . .” he mumbled, face finally turning in your direction, eyes tracing the sway of your body as you exited his room. It wasn’t until Loki had heard the resolute sound of the shutting door that he shot to his feet and paced quickly to his nearby bath chambers and locked himself inside for a long ice-cold shower.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave any comments / suggestions! :D


	4. Panic! at the Royal Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Embarrassment at dinner, and you can't get Loki out of your mind. Literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been reading and commenting!! This chapter actually went a tiny bit longer than I expected, so I cut it in half. I'm thinking about reducing chapter sizes -- what do you guys think? Do you prefer longer chapters / slower updates or shorter chapters/ faster updates?   
> Also, I have no idea why, but this chapter was just . . . difficult to write for some reason? I mean that I worked on it for small increments at a time and just lost focus regularly. Sorry that it took longer for this to come out!

You had been a bundle of nerves the entire day. Usually books, studying, the scratching of ink to parchment -- usually your work was the best distraction. Yet, the thought of Loki and Angrboda alone together made your skin crawl, made you wanna rip your hair out, made you wanna claw at your eyes, made you wanna just  _ rip _ her apart--

“My, is that an interesting volume of the  _ Ønske _ ?” 

Lord Torsten’s voice ripped your attention from the book in your hands, staring blankly at the old man as if he had just woken you up from a nap. You glanced back at the pages. You had no idea what you were reading — it was some random book you had plucked from a shelf absentmindedly earlier.

“O-oh, um,” you cleared your throat, flipping through the bound parchment in a flourish and feigning interest. “Yes, yes, it’s all so fascinating.”

“I’m surprised,” Torsten hummed, stroking that fuzzy white beard of his. “I never took you for the type to read content so . .” he arched a brow. “ _ Risque _ .” 

“Huh?” 

“It seems as though you’re only halfway through, but once it gets into the last few chapters--  _ whew! _ ” the old man started fanning himself like a feigning lady. “Really, so  _ bold  _ of you to read that in public!” 

‘Wait-- no,  _ what _ ?” your words stumbled over each other as your pulse jumped, slamming the book shut on your desk and jumping away as if it were diseased. “No--  _ no _ , I wasn’t--”

“Oh, no need to explain yourself, my lady, I  _ know _ ,” he batted his eyelashes and teased, and it made you want to simultaneously laugh and gag. “You’re a lovely  _ single  _ young lady -- I understand if you have certain, er. . .  _ fantasies _ .”

“Lord  _ Torsten _ !!” you practically yelled, cheeks aflame -- luckily, it seemed as though you and the old man were the only ones left in the study. “My lord, this is  _ not  _ a conversation I would like to be having -- with  _ you  _ of all people!” 

“Come now, child!” he tutted, waving a teasing arm. “I have known you since you were but the size of a lamb-- I have my own daughters who have struggled with these same issues! I am only trying to cheer up a girl who looks so heartbroken!” 

You were taken aback for a moment. “You. . . I--” you fiddled with your dress sleeves impulsively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine. Maybe just a bit tired.” 

“ _ Ha _ , and I’m next in line for the throne,” Torsten snorted; his eyes, always so kind and forgiving, were sympathetic as they gazed at you. “But, if it is as you say, child. . . “ he sighed. “. . . Then so it must be.” 

You nodded your head curtly with a tight smile, watching as the man returned to his own desk and began cleaning up his workspace. Lord Torsten had always been an understanding man, knowing when to comfort and when not to pry. It probably came with the responsibility of raising two daughters alone. 

“My lady,” he called without raising his head from his desk. “You should really head over to the royal hall now lest you want to go to bed with an empty stomach.” 

Your eyes darted to the library window, seeing the inky blackness of night already set outside. You cursed, racing out of the study and hoping there was still some food left. Lord Torsten only laughed at your hastiness; his eyes glanced back at the  _ Ønske  _ volume still laying on your desk. 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Really, kids these days. . . so  _ shameless _ !” 

\---

“--And then I  _ SLAYED  _ the beast, his head lobbing off with the boorist expression!!” 

Thor’s roar of a voice carried throughout the entire dining hall, overpowering an equally responsive and laughing crowd of listeners as well as a throng of musicians. It was particularly rowdy tonight, made extra festive with the arrival of the Vanyr guests. The stimulation was all too much, but you honed in on a quiet empty table at the very edge of the room in the shadows of the hall, far from the ruckus and crowds. You sat down quietly, eagerly digging into the -- _thankfully_ still abundant \-- dinner of roast meat, veggies, and bread spread out before you. 

A space had been made in the middle of the royal hall to make room for dancing -- and oh, how Asgardians  _ loved  _ to dance. If Thor wasn’t still recounting his battle stories at the main table at the other end of the hall, he would be tearing up the dance floor -- sometimes  _ literally _ . You were never one to dance, however, quite the opposite; you had two left feet and were regularly kicked out for ruining so many other people’s merriment. From a young age, you learned early on that dances and the like were just not meant for you. But this was a content arrangement for you. You naturally went unnoticed. 

_ You were meant to be unnoticed _ .

As you sipped at your drink, your eyes scanning the crowd over the rim of your goblet. At the high table, Thor sat surrounded by a handful of his other friends and courtesans; you saw Lady Sif at his side, laughing and merry as could be. At the other end, Odin and Frigga sat talking to their Vanyr guests; Princess Angrboda sat uninterested in the middle, poking her fork around her plate. Instinctually, you looked for black hair, a green tunic, gold armor -- but found nothing. 

_ Damnit.  _ You winced, mentally scolding yourself.  _ Get it together. You’re not some “loyal dog”. .  _

Your stomach clenched. 

_ A “loyal dog”. . . the idea of being “owned” by Loki. . . being his and. . .  _

You gulped down your drink thickly. 

_. . . Loki being mine.  _

“My lady~!” 

A voice called out your name from the crowd, making you jump in your seat --  _ Ingvarr _ ? The two of you hadn’t spoken much since you schooled him on respect all those days ago, so you wondered why the voice sounded so amiable. You quickly shook yourself into your senses, seeing his wobbled steps approach the table. He lazily plopped down on the bench seat across from you, smiling and ruddy faced -- the intense smell of alcohol wafted across the table as he mouthbreathed. 

“Ingvarr, h-hello!” you coughed, just trying to be polite but wishing he would go away. He smiled stupidly at you, propping his chin in his hands lazilly. “Are you enjoying the festivities?” 

“Ooooh, my lady~” he sang your name, in that trademark slurring of a drunk. “I don’t think I’ve ever -- _ hic _ \-- I’ve ever drank so much ale in my  _ life _ !! Or danced for that matter! Have you  _ seen  _ these moves?” Ingvarr shot up from his seat, suddenly waving his arms and legs like a madman without a care in the world -- you stood up yourself now, trying to hush him down back to sanity. 

“My gods, Ingvarr you are a  _ mess _ ,” you jibed, finally managing to get him back to sit.

The young man huffed, pouting and shaking his head like a child; his brown bangs bounded back and forth in turn. “I am  _ not  _ a mess,” he retorted like a baby, “I just wanted to say. . .  _ ssmmrrree _ . . .”

“Sorry?” your ears picked up, not hearing the tail end of his mumble over the crowd and music and Thor. “What was that?”

“I’M  _ SOOOORRRYYYYYY _ ~!!” Ingvarr wailed at the top of his lungs like a newborn siren, stretching out his arms dramatically. The hall echoed with his voice, something finally managing to overpower Thor. Dancers stilled, eyes turned, music stuttered. “I’m SORRRYYY, SORRRY, OH SO SORRRRYYYY--”

You blanched, blood going ice cold. 

“ _ Shut up you idiot _ !!” you whisper screamed, waving your hands in front of his mouth to somehow silence his wails -- but never touching. Gods, you  _ really  _ didn’t want to touch this smelly drunken ass. 

“MY LADY, I’m SORRRRYYYyY--” he sung your name like a war chant. 

“Ingvarr, shut  _ up _ \--!!” 

“SORRR _ yyyyYYYYY _ \-- _ mmff! _

You leaned over the table and clasped a merciless hand against his maw; you could feel the drool of his mouth, the uncomfortable sticky heat of his face --  _ ugh _ . Ingvarr looked at you wide-eyed. Your own burned murderously against him. 

“I said shut the  _ fuck  _ up, Ingvarr,” you seethed in a low voice. You side-eyed the world around you, the crowd slowly returned to the merriment of the party, forgetting the outburst. There were some lingering murmurs and stares, and you just tried your best to smile and show that everything was fine. Looking back at the man now silent in your hand, you quickly retracted your grip; you wiped your palm against a napkin, wanting to get the sensation of his skin off you as quickly as possible. 

Ingvarr was stunned into sobriety. He sat there, mouth slightly agape, looking like he had just discovered a new word. It was unsettling, to say the least. 

“ _ Ingvarr _ ,” you huffed, trying to reign in your emotions, but you knew you were failing. “ _ What  _ was with that?” 

“I--” he hiccuped, but thankfully considerably more lucid. “I’m sorry.” 

“For  _ what _ ?”

“For the other day, when--  _ hic _ \-- when in the study, I was wrong to talk to you like that, my lady --  _ hic _ \-- and I--” his voice cracked and --  _ dear gods, is he. . . Is he  _ crying? “-- and you helped me a lot, my lady, and  _ you —  _ you didn’t deserve that!” He began to blubber and sob, wailing with renewed fervor. 

“Hey, hey, hey--!” your instincts kicked in, overriding your disgust and anger with sympathy; you quickly ran over to his side and sat, putting a comforting arm on his shoulder. He was crying like a child, and honestly, you couldn’t help but find it a little funny. “Ingvarr, stars, why are you  _ crying _ ?”

“I--  _ hic  _ \-- I--” the man’s hiccups were now from his tears, struggling to get his words out. You stroked his back comfortingly, calming him. 

“Hey, hey -- Ingvarr, it’s  _ okay  _ \-- I’ve already gotten over that long ago! There’s no need to cry over it!” you teased with a laugh. 

“You-- You’re not --  _ hic  _ \-- mad -- mad at me?” he whimpered, looking at you with the biggest puppy-dog eyes you’ve ever seen on a grown man. 

“Of course not,” you patted his back, getting those last few hiccups out. “Not unless you do it again,” you scoffed. Ingvarr smiled warmly at the joke, shaking his head; he wiped his nose, finally calming down to a marginally respectable level. 

“ _ Norns on high, you would bother to even speak to a man like  _ this _? Pathetic. _ ” 

Your snapped to your feet, eyes flinging wildly about you. The voice in your head simply chuckled, and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was doing that stupid smirk of his.

“ _ Where are you? _ ” you asked in your mind, still not seeing your best friend anywhere in the crowds. 

“ _ Outside. _ ” 

“ _ Very helpful. _ ” 

“ _ Cheeky. _ ” 

“ _ Says the God of Mischief. _ ” 

“My lady. . .?” Ingvarr’s confused voice brought you back to reality; he reached up to tug on your sleeve to pull you back down. He uttered your name again, “Is something wrong?” 

You heard something like a growl in your mind, but you were half sure you just imagined it and just confused it for one of Thor’s play-roars from the other end of the room. Then, a clear snicker. 

“ _ Really, what a petulant child. Leave him. _ ” 

“ _ I can’t just leave him _ !” 

“ _ First a bird and now a drunk fool. . . how much more will you insult me? _ ” 

“ _ Don’t be so dramatic, you ass. _ ”

“ _ Now the gall to call your prince an ass _ ,” there was a scoff on the other side. “ _ It’s miraculous how you haven’t been charged with treason yet. _ ” 

You couldn’t hold back a real laugh. 

“ _ If I didn’t, who would _ ?” 

There was a pause, long enough to wonder if the voice was still there. Ingvarr still stared up at you pleadingly, hand still pinching your sleeve like a lost puppy. “My lady--?” 

“ _ You will  _ not _ refuse me again, woman _ ,” there was more of an edge to the voice, not taking refusal anymore. “ _ Come outside into the hall  _ now _ before I make you.”  _

A shiver ran down your spine.  _ To be “owned” like a dog by him. . .  _ the thought rang in your mind carelessly. 

“ _ Oh _ ?” 

_ SHIT.  _

“ _ Interesting. . .  _ “ A deep, hearty chuckle. “ _ Hmm. . . I’ll keep this in mind. _ ” 

_ FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.  _

“ _ You-- _ ”

“ _ Outside, woman, now _ ,” another snicker. “ _ Or would you prefer I call you ‘pet’?” _

“ _ Shut up. _ ”

“ _ Mm, so feisty _ !” 

You swung your leg over the bench, gently pulling Ingvar’s hand from you-- he whimpered pitifully, still sniffling. “My lady, where are you going?” 

“I just need to step out for a moment, Ingvarr,” before he could whine further, you pulled out of his grasp completely and paced away from the table. Weaving your way through dancers and other partygoers, carefully wading through the hot, sweaty air; you sang a silent hallelujah at the sight of the exit. 

The air of the dark outer hallways was a refreshing blast of coolness; the light of bright white moon shone in gentle beams through the floor to ceiling windows, paired with the gentle flicker flames in sconces adorning the walls. There were couples, erm. . .  _ coupling  _ in the corners and shadows of the pillars, you embarrassingly averting your eyes.

“ _ Oh-ho _ ,  _ is my pet shy _ ?” 

You walked further into the hallway, keeping your eyes peeled for the trickster in your head. The people thinned, the music of the hall fading, the palace growing quieter and quieter. 

“ _ Don’t call me that _ .” 

“ _ I’m only using the name you thought of, my dear. _ ” 

The people had thinned entirely, and you walked alone along the empty hallways, your only company being the sound of your softly padded sandals against the floor. 

“ _ And you know how much I hate it when you get in my head. _ ”

“ _ If I didn’t, who would? _ ” 

“Bastard,” you muttered out loud, still no sign of a raven-haired prince anywhere. 

“ _ Ass, bastard. . . _ I really should punish you for your insolence.”

Before you could even make a peep, two stone arms wrapped around you from behind, one ice-cold hand muffling your mouth; on instinct you thrashed against the hold, but a familiar velvety voice hissed in your ear. 

“How should I do it, hm?” his breath caressed the shell of your ear, your body stilling against the man’s sturdy marble body. “Whips? Chains? Just how should I  _ break _ my pet?” 

Your body betraying shivered in delight, the double-entendres making your back arch subtly, pushing yourself further into him. The hard edges of his leathered tunic, the firm muscles of his chest and hips -- stars above, he felt  _ good _ . Something deep rumbled in the prince’s throat. 

“ _ Mmmff _ \--” 

“All in good time, my dear. . .” 

The body behind you suddenly pulled you backwards, a shimmering green rip in reality opening as you reversed; the portal shimmer around you two, finding yourselves in a familiar golden and emerald bedchamber. The man’s arms finally became lax enough and you pushed yourself out of his hold, the portal closing silently behind you. You turned to face him, heaving in air. 

“ _ Loki _ .”

  
He devilishly smiled. 

“I believe I was promised a  _ massage _ ?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you guys think? Do you prefer longer chapters / slower updates or shorter chapters/ faster updates?


	5. [Platonic] Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some heartfelt moments in Loki's bed.

Loki had stripped himself of most of his leather and armor, only leaving himself in a thin cloth tunic and pants; he sat at the edge of his bed, elbows leaning on his knees as he rested his face in his hands. You kneeled behind him on the bed, delivering on your promise made earlier that day, your hands working gently against his tense muscles. The man groaned and sighed silently under your fingertips. 

“ _ Ahh _ . . .” the prince hissed as you dug into a spot in his spine. Your hands stilled. 

“Sorry, did that hurt?” your voice was quiet, your mouth so dry. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes heavy lidded and dark. 

“Do it again.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice -- your hands groped his spine gently but with more force than before. Loki leaned into your touch, and you eagerly granted its every subconscious wish. Every hard line of sinew, every velvety expanse of muscle; you tried to memorize everything with your hands. Your pulse thumped in your ears; gods, could he hear how hard your chest was beating? Could he feel how your fingers trembled? 

“So, erm--” you coughed, needing anything to fill the silence besides Loki’s sighs. “Today with Lady Sif-- I. . . I just wanted to say thank you, for doing that for her.” 

Loki didn’t bother turning around, still just enjoying the feeling of your hands against his backside; he only scoffed. “Oh, so  _ now  _ you want to thank me?” 

“Hey, you were the one that refused to tell me what Princess Angrboda originally planned to do,” you gripped the nape of his neck with extra force as punctuation. “‘Pain and punishment’. . . really, for something so small as a joke about having weak hands?” 

He nodded imperceptibly. “I must admit though,” you could see the way the back of his cheeks slightly raised. “Angrboda is. . .  _ interesting _ .” 

“ _ Interesting _ ?” your hands slowed unconsciously. “What do you mean?” 

“That woman isn’t the worst company to have around, I suppose,” he chuckled, his hand wiping at his mouth. “And despite having such a disarmingly  _ pure  _ appearance, her mouth is absolutely  _ dirty _ . In all senses of the word.” 

Your hands stilled completely, taking in the weight of what Loki had just said. 

_ No.  _

“You. . .”

_ No, he wouldn’t. _

“. . . You’ve kissed her?” 

“More than  _ that _ , you could say,” Loki shrugged with a snort. “She is to be my wife, after all. I needed to have a taste of what I’m getting,” he rubbed his face again with a sigh. “I can’t say I’m disappointed. I at least have something to enjoy in this wretched union.” 

“But I thought--” your voice was small, so quiet, so  _ weak _ . “-- I thought you  _ hated  _ her? What could she have done in one afternoon to make you change your mind?” 

“Er, well--” Loki was suddenly flustered.  _ Loki -- flustered?  _ “It’s as I’ve said. She’s  _ interesting _ . Daring and cunning and spoiled absolutely  _ rotten _ . I don’t think. . .” his voice trailed off, like he was getting lost in his thoughts. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like her.” 

“ _ I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like her”? _

You wanted to cry. You wanted to  _ cry _ . 

“I--” you bit your lip harshly, almost to the point of drawing blood.  _ Keep it in. Keep it in.  _ “So, you-- you’re  _ serious  _ about the princess now?”

“As if my wants had any say in the matter,” Loki tutted snidely. “But yes, in a sense.” 

Something cracked inside of you. You weren't sure what.

“. . . She would be the first. . .” 

“What was that?” the man asked over his shoulder, not being able to hear your whisper.

“Princess Angrboda would be the  _ first _ \--”  _ the first to have caught your attention. The first to have you talking about her in private. The first to be in your thoughts. The first to be ‘different.’  _ “--The first person you’ve formally courted.” 

“Hm, yes, I suppose so. . .” he mused. Loki raised a curious eye over his shoulder, “Why have your hands stopped?” 

Emerald eyes widened as he looked you over, finally turning his torso to look at you fully -- you wondered what he was seeing. Perhaps your limbs were crumbling away to dust, your skin cracking like brittle glass, your chest imploding in on itself into a black hole -- because  _ Norns  _ that’s what you were feeling. But maybe not, since soon enough, Loki broke out into another impish smirk. 

“Oh,  _ I  _ see,” he clapped a casual hand on your shoulder, and you’ve never felt further away from him. “Jealous that I’m getting my  _ fill  _ while you’re still some spinster, eh?” 

You rolled your eyes and bit your tongue, shoving off his hand roughly. He seemed a bit taken aback with your attitude, but said nothing. You shifted your legs over the side of the bed, hurriedly standing and brushing off your dress; your posture was curt, polite. 

“Loki, I think I’ll retire for the evening.”

“What?” 

“I’m tired, Loki, I just want to go to bed.” 

“Don’t tell me that little jab made you  _ that  _ upset--”

“ _ Please _ , Loki,”  _ while I can still hold it in. _ “Please, just-- I want to go to bed.” 

His brows furrowed as he looked up at you, his expression mulling over your shift in mood. 

“No.”

“Loki, please--”

“No,” he repeated like it was a simple fact, scooting further to the backboard of his massive bed. He patted the empty space next to him. 

You huffed exasperatedly. “Loki, c’mon, just let me go back to my room--”

“ _ Woman _ ,” he bit fiercely. “You said you wanted to go to bed. There is a bed right here. Now,  _ come _ .” 

Like the loyal dog you truly were, his commands were irrefutable spells; even though every part of your heart and mind screamed at you to just go, get away from him, your feet padded toward the mattress once more, crawling up and settling in the space beside Loki. Your shoulders ghosted against each other, and you hated how it still sent electricity through your veins. The two of you just looked ahead of you in the tense silence; you watched the flames dancing in the hearth across the room. 

“I am  _ not  _ a spinster.”

“Clearly,” Loki snickered. “I can see the line of suitors just  _ dying  _ to bust your door down.”

“Ugh, shut _ up _ ,” you elbowed his side lightly, the man only softly smiling in response. “I don’t--”  _ I don’t want anyone else but you.  _ “--I’m just not interested in  _ that  _ right now.” 

“‘ _ That _ ’?” the prince’s voice was teasing, raising a brow at you. “Ah, you mean sex.” 

“ _ Loki _ !” your hands flew to your face, shaking your head and groaning. The man beside you just shook with laughter. 

“Look at you-- so bashful like some young school girl! Really, woman, it’s really not something so taboo,” he managed to calm himself back to a degree, resuming his previous blank stare across the room. 

You finally dropped your hands, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look in Loki’s direction right now. It was all just too embarrassing. “I know that, I know -- but  _ still _ . I--” you shook your head, like it could recalibrate your frazzled senses. “I just don’t give it much thought, I guess.” 

“Hm. . .” his voice quieted, and you could feel something alter in his temperance. “That boy you were with  _ obviously  _ had.” 

“Boy?” your voice piqued with renewed interest. 

“Yes, that drunk fool you were with tonight,” he spat, as if even remembering him was beneath him. 

“Oh, Ingvarr, he’s--” you slowly glanced over at Loki, seeing the way his jaw was firmly set. “He’s just a new apprentice the scholars have taken in. I honestly don’t know him that well.” 

Loki huffed, rolling his eyes. “Of course, any stranger would scream ‘I’m sorry’ at their top of their lungs in the middle of a crowded hall,” his eyes latched onto yours, scrutinizing. “And what  _ was  _ that all about, anyways?” 

“That was just a misunderstanding,” you internally cursed at how robotic you sounded -- ironically, you were the worst liar in situations like this. 

“A misunderstanding?” 

“Mhmm. We just didn’t get along on the best of terms when we first met, but we’re both good now. Just a misunderstanding.” 

“Woman, you know I can enter your mind whenever I want to,” Loki’s face glared your’s down, breathing in your air. “Now tell me the truth before I take it myself.” 

He was so close,  _ so  _ close. You swallowed and licked at your suddenly dry lips, unconsciously glancing down at Loki’s. The man noticed your eyes; it made his own dilate, his lips parting. 

And that’s when you smelled it. That same saccharine sweetness you had smelled on him earlier that day in the corridor-- it was even more subtle than before, riding on the breath Loki released from his mouth. 

“I’ll take your silence as permission--”

“No, stop--!” pulling yourself back, you held up your hands in defense. “Ingvarr just wasn’t the most polite to me.” 

“ _ Impolite _ ?” Loki’s brows furrowed, his voice hardening. “How so?”

“Loki, stop, it really isn’t that big of a deal--”

“How  _ so _ ?” 

You sighed; he really wasn’t going to drop it. 

“I’m a young woman working with the Master Scholars in the Royal Head Advisory. The  _ only  _ woman. Ingvarr is just an upstart, and I’m no stranger to prejudices like his. It’s more usual rather than not, actually,” you cackled, but Loki’s face was humorless -- the exact opposite, in fact. There was a terse quiet. 

“ _ Names _ .” 

“Names?” 

“The names of every single person that’s treated you in such a manner,” his gaze was deadly as the reflection of fire danced in his eyes. “Goats, rats,  _ pigs.  _ Ah, why should I be so  _ kind  _ \--” Loki conjured a black dagger in his hand, twirling it between his fingers. “-- Death would be a much more suitable consequence.”

_ Well, there goes half the royal court.  _

A giggle escaped you as you saw how dead-serious the prince was; Loki’s looked at you incredulously with a point of his dagger. “This is no amusing matter, woman. They’ve offended a member of their prince’s personal circle of acquaintance.” 

_ Friend. Your friend.  _ Even after all these years, you could count on a single hand the number of times he’s ever called you the term out loud. But, of course, that never really mattered to you. 

You gently pressed a finger to the tip of the blade, lowering it back down into his lap. “Loki, there are some battles that cannot be won by brute force alone,” you looked into his eyes. “Patience and forgiveness will do more to win this war than a weapon ever could.” Loki swallowed as you lowered the blade fully into lap, the bob of his neck mesmerizing your eyes.

He squinted, his face scrunching in confusion, “But  _ why _ ? Assert your power and authority and you will gain their respect. No one would dare to treat you in such a way again. And  _ patience _ ?  _ Forgiveness _ ? Do you just expect people’s hearts to change?” he snorted with a cruel flash of his teeth. “If so, then you are more naïve and  _ foolish  _ than I took you for.”

“Of course, it’s just as you said,” you shrugged, not at all phased by his bitterness. “I  _ could  _ just show who I am,  _ make  _ them respect me -- but. . . Loki, is that not  _ fear _ ?”

The prince recoiled at the word; he was no stranger to it. He never had been; since the moment his true little blue body crossed the threshold of Asgard, Loki knew all about  _ fear _ . You continued. 

“I remember reading in my father’s journals. . . ‘ _ Akin to a garden, hearts need to be tended to. Cared for. Cultivated. _ ’ I don’t want to force people’s hearts to open to me, Loki, I--” you paused, not even knowing where you were going with this. “-- I guess I just want to see how the seeds of my kindness will grow.”

His face was unreadable, but you could almost see the way his mind churned. There was a long silence, and you squirmed under its scrutiny. Finally, he broke his stare, looking back across to the fireplace. 

“You  _ are  _ a fool,” he muttered, the dagger in his hand dissolving in a jade light. 

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Probably,” you puffed. “But at least I’m not some animal-obsessed knife-wielding maniac.”

“Hey!” Now Loki was the one to break out into a small smile. 

“Ah, yes, I can remember it vividly. . .” you tapped your finger against your chin. “What was that horse's name again. . . ?  _ Sleipnir _ , was it?” 

Loki’s face went red and gaped as you referenced that old rumor from your adolescence-- the one where he fucked a horse. Yeah. A  _ horse _ . Of course, it was a complete and outright baseless lie, but you and Thor had worked ages on getting the story  _ just  _ right for it to be believable. And boy, did people believe it. People still gave Loki wary glances if they saw him heading to the stables alone. 

“You did  _ not  _ just--” his face was a mixture of disbelieving humor and disgust. “What are we, hm? Back to being a _snivelling_ little girl resorting to cheap shots at my dignity?” 

“Oh, Loki, a cheap shot would be saying that the  _ horse  _ was the top--  _ AH! _ ” 

Loki’s arms attacked your middle, wrapping you up and subduing you -- his fingers attacked your belly, your arms, every single spot he knew you were ticklish. He was unadulteratedly gleeful as he tickled you mercilessly, your body contorting and scrunching uncontrollably. 

“ _ STOP!  _ Loki--  _ ahAHAH _ !!” your shrieks of laughter bounced off the walls, your arms flailing against his to protect yourself; but it was no use, Loki’s godly strength easily overpowering you. “ _ LOKI-- HAAhahhaAHHA!! _ ” 

“Utter that  _ infernal  _ horse’s name again!! I  _ dare  _ you, woman!” Loki’s sadistic laughter mixed with your own as he continued to assail you with tickles. “Just  _ try  _ it!!” 

“ _ AHHAAahaAH-- OK!-- AhahhAHA--  _ Ok, I  _ won’t -- HAHAAA-- stop _ !!” tears started to build at the corners of your eyes, and you swatted at him desperately. 

“ _ Promise  _ me, woman!!” he yelled through his maniacal grin. 

“ _ HAaHHA-- Fine _ !!” 

“ _ Promise _ !!” 

“I  _ promise _ !!” Finally, Loki relented and pulled back, finally letting you catch your breath. You wiped at the corner of your eyes; you slapped his arms and sides, playfully scolding. “You’re such a child!” 

“ _ Me _ ? I’m not the one that brought up that ancient  _ lie _ !” he grabbed your wrists with a laugh, and the two of you were caught in another tussle of tickles and fits of giggles. 

That’s how the two of you passed the night -- your laughters were indistinguishable from one another, the sound of your mirthful stories and conversation filling the warm bedchamber. The stars twinkled outside. You were able to forget your feelings of dread and heartache, if only for a moment. Right now, Loki was here with you -- he was  _ here  _ with  _ you _ . What else could ask for? 

-

By the twilight hour, the two of you had exhausted all topics of conversation, your voices hoarse and ragged from laughter and hollering. Loki’s head lay in your lap, his eyes closed, arms encircling your middle. He had done this a few times before, but that was ages ago when you were children; but you weren’t complaining. You stroked his head softly, running your fingers carefully through his soft raven locks. Soft, silky, dreamy -- your eyes hungrily traced the lines of his oh-so-perfect face, seeing how his long dark eyelashes fluttered every now and again. You could feel the thumping of his chest against your legs, the steady rise and fall of his ribs, his cool body resting so peacefully. 

Tentatively, you sniffed the air -- pine, oak, cinnamon, soap,  _ Loki _ . That strange scent had disappeared mysteriously once again. You put it out of your mind, looking back at the strong man in your lap. It was funny to look at; Loki easily loomed over you in size and stature, but here he was, curled up like a child against you. You giggled. 

“What?” Loki’s voice quiet and tired, muffled against the cloth of your dress. 

“Now look who’s acting like a pet,” you smiled softly. You expected him to retort, but he only purred, snuggling tighter against you. 

“ _ Mmm _ . . .” he sighed. “You’re lucky your lap is so comfortable, woman.” 

You tittered again, continuing to brush the prince’s hair over his head with the softest touch of your hands. But, in this moment, he wasn’t a  _ prince  _ \-- he was Loki, your best friend, your most important person in the entire universe. He wasn’t a god, wasn’t a royal, wasn’t an entity so far beyond your reach could ever even dream of touching. He was . . .  _ Loki _ .

Would Angrboda be able to see that? To  _ see  _ him the way you did? Would she see the way his eyes changed with his moods? A fiery green for his tempers, a mysterious cobalt when sullen, a rich mix of both when he was ecstatic -- would she see the way his cheeks crinkled, the way his tongue stuck out slightly whenever he laughed? And his  _ laugh _ , dear gods; would her heart fill with butterflies whenever she heard it? Would she notice every inflection in his velvety voice, understand the slightest insinuations of that silver tongue? Would Angrboda be able to see past his mask, that charming, flawless façade -- would she be able to see his vulnerability, his fears, his sadness? 

W _ ould she _ ? The answer was as plain as daylight. She  _ would _ , inevitably. Inevitably, Loki will go to Angrboda to vent his worries, release his anger, or seek catharsis. Inevitably, Loki will be the one to seek Angrboda first when returning on his trips across the galaxies. Inevitably, Loki would be in  _ her  _ lap, just like this -- Angrboda’s fingers would be the one touching his hair, his face, his  _ everything _ . 

Inevitably, a moment like this would never happen again. Because, inevitably, Loki would no longer seek your company. No more chess. No more crude tricks and name-calling. No more games. No more Loki. 

_ I don’t want to lose you. _

“‘ _ Lose _ ’ me. . .? Woman, what are you talking about--”

Loki’s eyes suddenly went wide, pushing himself quickly into an upright sitting position in front of you. His face went soft, brows furrowing in tenderness; carefully, he cupped your face in your hands. The cold skin of his hands chilled your burning cheeks. 

“You’re crying--” his voice caught in his throat, thumbs wiping away the silent tears that had begun dripping off your face. “My dear, whatever is the matter. . .?” 

You couldn’t bear to see him looking at you like this; you tried shoving him away, twisting your face out of his hands, but his grip was stone. You managed to just sniffle and glare.

“I thought I told you to stay out of my head.” 

He raised a brow, “I wasn’t in your mind.”

_ Oh.  _

“I said that out loud. . .” you snorted pitifully, reaching up to wipe away a tear; but Loki’s thumb got there first, rubbing your cheeks delicately. “Great.”

He nodded smally, his expression so uncharacteristically sensitive. “What did you mean? How would you ‘ _ lose _ ’ me?”

“Loki. . . you--" you shook your head, struggling to get the words out of your mouth. ". . . Princess Angrboda.” 

“ _ Her _ ? What about her?” he looked at you incredulously. “What does she have to do with  _ us _ ?” 

“Loki, she’s you  _ betrothed _ \--”  _ Is he really going to make me say it?  _ “Princess Angrboda will be your  _ wife _ , it wouldn’t be right--” 

“Oh,  _ spare  _ me,” he suddenly pulled you against his chest, swiveling the two of you around so now you were the one cuddled against him as he sat against his headboard. His arm wrapped around your body, stroking your arm with his thumb comfortingly. “ _ I  _ will be the one to decide what is right or wrong. No one could tell me otherwise. Besides,” as he looked down at you, you wondered if there had ever been more  _ beautiful  _ eyes to have ever existed in the universe. “As if I would let her come between me and my best friend.” 

_ How does he do it?  _

_ When I don’t think I could love him any more, how does Loki always make me fall harder for him?  _

_ Scary.  _

_ Scary. _ Your mind wandered back to something similar you had written in your journals long ago. 

_ “It’s scary being in love with you, Loki.  _

_ It’s like you’re going to consume me.  _

_ If you hunger, then eat me.  _

_ Take it all.  _

_ Take everything I have to offer, everything that I am.  _

_ If you are my end, then I would happily jump into the abyss.” _

“You’re tired,” he leaned his head back against the bed frame, eyes shutting slowly. “Sleep.” 

Your logical brain shrieked at you to refuse, to finally go back to your room; but Loki was right. It had been an exhausting day. 

Your arms encircled his waist carefully, cheek pressing against the firmness of his chest. You could hear the steady beat of his heart -- strong and clear. His clean musk scent washed over you like a cooling wave, and you smiled against him. Eyes still closed, Loki pulled his plush emerald blankets around the two of you; his hands stilled as they wrapped around you, his arms the safest cradle in the entire universe. The weakening hearth crackled across the room. You snuggled closer, Loki tightening his grip around you as well. 

And without any care in the world, your eyes fluttered closed and you slept like a baby. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. A Raspberry-Walnut Tart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have an emotional roller coaster ride of a day. . . and one really good tart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter a few times, so I made it a bit longer in compensation for the extended wait time! I'm thinking of updating regularly on either Saturdays or Sundays! As always, thank you so much to everyone who's dropped kudos and comments! It's so encouraging to read them all, and they really to help motivate to continue writing and pour my heart out into this!! Thank you all so much for your continued support!! x
> 
> ((PS; idk if I've mentioned this before, but I don't have a beta and my proofreading skills aren't always the best. I'm also still getting used to AO3's text formatting. I apologize for any spelling / grammar/ text formatting mistakes!!))

_ The Centennial Asgard Winter Solstice Ball. Nobility and dignitaries from across the Nine Realms attended every hundred years -- it was a prestigious event that represented the unity and peace that Asgard spearheaded.  _

_ And it just so happened to fall on the same day of your parents’ death.  _

_ The icy winter winds bit at your skin as you struggled to stop crying on the palace balcony; melodies wafted in from behind you, the thralls of festivities still in full swing in the main ballroom. The moon was high above you, a lovely full luminous face staring down at your misery.  _

_ You wiped furiously at a dark stain on the front of your borrowed dress -- One of the nice old scholars who had started tutoring you, Lord Torsten, had let you borrow one of his daughter’s dresses for this occasion. Your mother was an eternally armor-clad warrior, and for the dresses she  _ did  _ have, they were too big, too simple, usually blood-stained. You had thanked the lord profusely when he brought out this dress. Torsten’s dress was finer than anything you’ve ever seen or hoped to own, a lovely lilac satin tea-cup dress that you thought was the cutest thing in the world. Although it was still a bit big on your younger frame, you had still excitedly twirled in front of a mirror with it on. You had read a book about hairstyles and makeup, trying your best to follow their instructions. It was a bit difficult, but you managed to do a simple updo on yourself. _

_ You felt . . . pretty.  _

_ Obviously, you had wanted Loki to see you first once you had gotten ready, but you hadn’t been able to find him that whole day. You had wanted to be with him, particularly because of what today meant to you -- but the palace was simply too busy, too chaotic, and the royal family was being pulled in all directions for preparations. But that was okay -- you looked forward, then, just to have fun with him at the ball.  _

_ It was your first time going to such an event. It was your first time going to a ball at all.  _

_ Your heels bounced off the floor eagerly as soon as the massive ballroom doors had swung open, the Winter Ball finally beginning. The delicious scent of a laid-out feast, the harmonies of a lively band and orchestra, floating lights and flames casting illuminations of every color across the dance floor; your skin tingled excitedly. Unabashedly, you beelined for the delectable spread of candies and sweets, christening the time with a full stomach.  _

_ “Oh, how charming that they let  _ you  _ attend.” Etoile’s cackle interrupted you as you were shoving a chocolate truffle into your mouth, your cheeks awkwardly stuffed with other sweets. The girl had recently made her debut in the court, a promising new lady in waiting chosen by the Allmother herself. She was wearing a gorgeous powder blue dress, her hand propped on her hip; her amber eyes looked you up and down, her face viciously amused. She scoffed, turning and walking away with a final remark, “Like vermin scrounging for scraps. . . “ _

_ Whatever, you thought. You continued to have your greedy fill, then going off to explore what the celebration had to offer. You admired the orchestra at the side, gazed amazed at all the splendid decorations; but you couldn’t find a circle of conversation where you fit in. They were all too old, too noble, too exclusive. None of the girls your age even seemed to notice your existence -- Etoile was surrounded by a gaggle of the peers you recognized as the other young courtesans. Their laughter sounded cold and distant.  _

_ You were alone. You tried dancing, lifting your spirits with more food, distracting yourself with a forced smile -- but you were alone. Where’s Loki?  _

_ Like on cue, trumpets blared, harkening the entrance of the royal family. Everything paused, all eyes turning toward the gold ballroom doors at the top of the faraway staircase. First, King Odin and Queen Freya, descending the staircase in all their majesty; then, Thor with a skip in his step and a bright grin. Finally. . . Loki. He had a small smile, looking all parts of angelic regality that was true to him. They were all wearing their best, rich golds and crimson and jewelry -- but Loki stood apart, in his vibrant deep emeralds and silver. Matching sea green eyes -- even among the crowds of people, you felt his eyes land on your face, and you couldn’t help but smile. But it was just a glance, his expression betraying no emotions.  _

_ The music restarted. You pushed through the crowds to finally reach your friend, but Loki was quickly pulled away with the other Odinsons to the front of the hall, sitting atop their thrones and immediately getting hounded by high ranking nobles. Soon a long line formed -- the proper procedure for paying respects. You fell in line as well, excitement welling again inside you. You had waited this long to see Loki; what was a bit more?  _

_ You waited and waited, twiddling your thumbs and swinging on your feet. You got on your toes to peer over the shoulders in front of you, seeing how close you were to the front. You saw the flourish of a blue skirt; Etoile was walking away when her eyes noticed you. Her direction changed, heels stalking toward you like a predator. In an instant, she had grabbed you by your arm and was pulling you away. You tried to protest, but she easily overpowered you in terms of strength; she was pulling you away from the party, snapping toward her friends to follow her. Finally, she pulled you through a balcony door and threw you gruffly against the outside railing. Etoile and her group of devoted followers encircled you, eyes judging and venomous.  _

_ “ _ What  _ do you think you’re doing?” Etoile crossed her arms.  _

_ “Me?” you bit back, patting down your ruffled skirt. “What are  _ you _ doing? I was just trying to greet the Allfather and his family!”  _

_ “You--!” she rolled her eyes with a disbelieving snort. “You have some gall. Don’t think we haven’t seen your impertinent attitude toward the princes!” Her gang nodded and grunted in agreement.  _

_ “‘Impertinent nature’?” you laughed with a raised brow. “I think you mean  _ friendship _.”  _

_ SPLASH! A dark liquid was thrust onto your dress, the drink dripping off your skirt. One of the other girls smirked as she watched your dress suddenly hang heavy, pulling back her now empty goblet. You suddenly noticed how cold it was outside, a gust of wind making you tremble.  _

_ “Inferior  _ scum _ ,” Etoile faced you down, baring her teeth in a low voice. “You think that if the princes show you kindness that makes you their  _ friend _? Don’t make me laugh,” eyes full of malice, dislike,  _ hatred _ burned around you. “You think this ugly little thing--” she flicked a dry part of your skirt. “--Changes anything? You don’t even have an escort to this ball. You are  _ nothing _. No one.” _

_ “Nothing!”  _

_ “Nobody!”  _

_ “Low-life bitch!”  _

_ The high pitched voices of the other girls resounded around like a choir, Etoile the conductor. It was astonishing; who knew how much malignancy could be stuffed inside prepubescent girls? _

_ “You can act like us all you want,” Etoile cocked her head. “But you will never,  _ ever  _ be one of us.”  _

_ She didn’t wait for your response, turning on her heels and walking back into the party with the rest of her girls -- it’s not like you had anything to say anyways. Stronger winds came and went; your hair fell stupidly down and across your face. You were shaking. And you just couldn’t stop the tears.  _

_ How cliche.  _

_ You turned around, staring out at the lights of Asgard below you, at the stars above you. Your small hands gripped the gold railing for comfort, but the ice-cold metal only sent more tremors through you. What did you have? Etoile had hit it right on the head -- you had nothing. . . were nothing. You were alone.  _

_ Alone.  _

_ You popped in and out of the ballroom hall to get a napkin, slinking in the shadows to avoid anyone’s gaze. Grabbing a napkin from a table, you returned to the isolation of the balcony, wiping at your dress. How would you apologize to Lord Torsten? Maybe you could work off the dress’ dues-- but then again, you wondered how long that would realistically take. You weren’t sure how much time had passed as you stood out there, wiping at yourself in a sniffling silence.  _

_ “This is supposed to be a festive occasion, girl. Your tears are ruining my mood.” _

_ A familiar voice uttered your name behind you; slowly turning, you wiped at your face a final time before mustering a feeble smile. Damn, your makeup was probably ruined.  _

_ “Loki,” you patted down your hair and dress nervously. “You-- Aren’t you supposed to be inside?” _

_ “I can choose to be wherever I wish,” he stepped closer, face unreadable and stoic. “Why aren’t you?” _

_ “I’m--” you coughed out the crack in your throat. “I just spilled a drink on myself. Clumsy, I know,” you weakly laughed.  _

_ “Hmm,” Loki nodded, obviously unconvinced. His eyes roamed your face, brows furrowed, but a side of his smile rose. “Of course  _ you _ would. Not even an ounce of grace.” The lighthearted quip made you recoil for a second. _

_ You are nothing. You are no one. _

_ Your head hung low, and you only nodded. Loki arched a brow, silently asking, ‘nothing to say?’ with his eyes. You shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek. You couldn’t bring yourself to raise your head and look at him, instead staring at the tops of both of your feet facing each other.  _

_ Loki stepped back and there was a rush of jade light. It pulled your eyes forward, seeing a swirling tear in the air -- you could hear the distant sound of waves in through the portal. You looked over at Loki, your eyes wide with amazement. He was wonderfully smug.  _

_ “Something my mother’s been teaching me,” he motioned an arm toward the tear. “I can’t hold it for long. Come.” His form disappeared through the portal without another word. You didn’t hesitate to follow him, napkin dropping forgotten on the balcony floor.  _

_ Ocean spray. Salty sea air. Foamy waves. The soft powdery sand that was cooled by the night air. High above, the Bifrost glowed and pulsated light. Your eyes shifted over the dark night beach at the edge of Asgard; you saw a flickering light emitting from a nearby cove. You stepped out of your shoes, letting the sand dust your feet as you walked toward it. Stopping at the cove’s mouth, you saw Loki already sitting inside, eyes staring into the roaring fire; he had taken off most of his pompous outer layers, laying them down beside him in a pile. Wordlessly, you joined his side, plopping down unceremoniously.  _

_ Eyes not leaving the fire, he lifted his hand to ghost over your stained dress; his mouth moved silently, and the stain was gone in a wave of green shimmer. You were dry, the warmth of the fire easing your body.  _

_ “What is this place?” _

_ “My secret hideaway,” he picked up a nearby stick, poking the fire with it. “Those people were suffocating.” _

_ “Tell me about it,” you scoffed.  _

_ “If you say a word about this, I’ll cut your tongue out.”  _

_ You rolled your eyes with a light sigh. “Obviously I wouldn’t.” _

_ “Good,” Loki nodded, eyes finally lifting to look at you. He glanced between you and your dress, like he was finally looking at you properly. “Now, care to tell me why you were crying?”  _

_ The fire crackled. The waves frothed gently just outside.  _

_ “Nothing important,” you shrugged, eyes fixing on the glowing embers.  _

_ “Don’t lie to me,” Loki pinched your side. “Tell me the truth.”  _

_ “How ironic.” _

_ “I’m serious. Is it--” the young prince swallowed, hesitant. “. . . Is it your parents?”  _

_ Your obvious look of surprise made him click his tongue, shaking his head.  _

_ “What? You really thought I forgot?”  _

_ “I--” Really, the answer was yes. Well, more accurately put, you didn’t think he cared. “I’m just a bit surprised, is all.”  _

_ “Of course I remember you fool. . . “ Loki mumbled under an annoyed breath, repositioning his legs in a small stretch. “Did you--” his voice softened. “Did you go visit them?”  _

_ You nodded numbly. “I cleaned their gravestones. Brought them some flowers. Talked a little. It was good.” _

_ “Alone?”  _

_ Alone. No one. Nothing.  _

_ “Mama and Papa were there in spirit, if that counts for anything,” you laughed dryly.  _

_ Loki was somber and quiet, his face rapt in thought.  _

_ “Odin and Mother have been keeping Thor and I on tight reigns these days, and my training and tutoring has been weighing heavily on my mind, and so I’ve been terribly busy with my duties and--” Loki paused in his rambling, drawing in a deep breath. “. . . I apologize. I should have been there with you today.”  _

_ Now you were downright dumbfounded. Loki didn’t look at you, sitting like a statue. You pinched his side, making him recoil in surprise.  _

_ “Hey!”  _

_ “Am I dreaming?” your lips slowly lifted into a gentle smile. “Or did  _ the  _ Loki really just say ‘I’m sorry’?”  _

_ “Don’t expect another one,” he huffed, but you could tell that the flush in his cheeks wasn’t just from the fire.  _

_ You elbowed him with a giggle, the tension easing away slowly. You shook your head, “It’s just been hard. . . I’m--” your voice was tight. “I miss them. A lot.”  _

_ Loki nodded, seeing his jaw tensing. You knew it was difficult for him to discuss any topics even remotely associated with ‘family.’  _

_ “I can understand,” he tossed a rock into the flames. “Parents. They’re just--” _

_ “--Complicated?” _

_ Loki offered you a wry smile. “Horrendously.”  _

_ “But we need them, I guess. . .” you mused, pulling your knees under your chin and wrapping your arms securely around them. “. . . It gets lonely without them.”  _

_ “Lonely?” sea eyes glinted gold in the light, turning to look at you fully. You didn’t understand what emotions they were conveying. “Are you lonely?”  _

_ You shrugged, emotionless eyes fixed on a crackling log. “I. . . ” Alone. No one. Nothing. “. . . I don’t know.”  _

_ There was a beat of silent nothing; then, a rush of clothing, Loki’s silken emerald cape wrapping around your shoulders. Loki’s arms encircled your form for a moment, his face floating over your shoulder -- you looked up at him, and this was the first time you had ever understood the term ‘ocean eyes.’ Eyes that were hauntingly gorgeous. Ones you could name and recognize with ease in a crowd of hundreds, thousands, millions. It was like all the air was sucked out of your chest. Like your heart stopped beating.  _

_ Suddenly, it was like there was only Loki in the entire universe.  _

_ But just as quickly as he came, Loki’s form retreated; although, he scooted a bit closer now, his knee brushing against yours. He cleared his throat, and your eye latched onto his mouth as he licked his lips.  _

_ “To call yourself ‘lonely’ is a great offense, girl,” Loki stared at you earnestly.  _

_ “Offense?” your voice sounded far away, your fingers playing with the hem of the soft cape around you. “To whom?”  _

_ “To whom--” Loki shook his head with a disbelieving scoff. “To  _ me _ , you dunce!” _

_ Your eyes went wide like a fish caught out of water.  _

_ “You have. . . me,” Loki’s chest heaved -- with anger or embarrassment, it was hard to tell. His cheeks were so unusually red, his face so unusually vulnerable. “It is entirely unacceptable for you to be lonely because--. . . because you have  _ me _.”  _

_ And it was at that moment that you realized one essential truth.  _

_ You were in love with Loki.  _

\--- 

The gentle rays of dawn caressed your eyes, rousing you from a wonderfully restful -- and thankfully fantasy-free -- sleep. It was the best rest you’ve had in  _ ages _ ; quite literally. You stretched languidly across the spacious, lusciously soft bed --  _ huh _ ? Heavy-lidded with remaining sleepiness, your eye dragged across the dimly lit room; verdant sheets and gleaming decorations. Silks and robes and all kinds of luxuries. Maps and parchment and books of all kinds. 

_ Oh, right. Loki’s room _ . 

This wasn’t the first time you’ve slept over; one time as kids, you two lost track of time when pouring over some old folktales and acting them out. Your eyes landed on a familiar book you had shown him from Midgard:  _ The Sword in the Stone _ . You giggled silently to yourself -- although he always hated to admit it, Loki always loved playing the valiant hero Arthur.

Maybe it was the rest still muddling your mind, but you weren’t nearly as embarrassed as you expected you would be, waking up in his bed  _ now  _ as a grown woman. The Asgardian sun gently peeked over the horizon beyond the massive bedchamber window. You stretched out again, loving the feeling of silken sheets under your skin. Your own bed seemed like a hole in the dirt compared to this. A quiet little moan escaped you. 

“Finally awake, I see.”

Your eyes slowly opened to see Loki standing at the side of the bed and --  _ Oh sweet Fates.  _ His body steamed and glistened, hair slicked back deliciously, droplets of water clinging to his  _ sinfully _ gorgeous form. At least he was wearing a towel low at his waist, but your eyes couldn’t help but follow a droplet down his navel, to the curve of the v of his hips, all the way down--

“ _ E-erm _ \--” you sputtered, forcing yourself to look away. “You-- you took a shower?”

“Am I forbidden to do so?” he scoffed. You noted the edge in his voice, already in a bad mood somehow. Still not looking, you felt the bed dip, and could now smell the irresistible scent of clean musk and sandalwood cologne rolling off of him. 

“Put on some clothes, Loki,” you now purposefully turned your face away completely, latching onto the skyline of the city outside. He didn’t answer, but could still feel the way his glare bore into the back of your head. In a rush of movement, Loki’s hand gruffly gripped your chin, fingers pressing your cheeks together; his other hand pulled at your wrist, pulling you up out of the bedsheets. His eyes were dark and burning; but with what emotion, you couldn’t tell. This wasn’t a face you were used to. 

“Where do you get the courage to order me in my own  _ bedchamber _ , woman? Are you some powerful goddess? Royalty? Nobility?  _ Hm _ ?” his arm shook with his silent anger, his grip on your face tightening uncomfortably. 

“Loki--”

“Look at you, asleep like a kitten without a single care in the world. Asleep in the bed of her  _ prince _ . Asleep as if  _ you  _ owned this bed. As if you. . .” the man’s eyes were a stormy sea of emotions, his brows furrowing with a scowl. “. . . As if you were  _ meant  _ to be here, wrapped in my sheets, just like  _ this _ .” 

_ Is he angry? Mad?  _ You couldn’t make sense of his drastic mood as his eyes darkened further, roaming your body and you felt his gaze like they were his hands. The air was hot, thick --  _ suffocating _ . The corner of Loki’s lip twitched, slightly parting; he was so close, pulling your face still closer. His scent, his voice, his touch. It was too much so early in the morning. 

“ _ Loki _ \--” you hesitantly pushed against his chest with the slightest touch of your fingers, ignoring the sheen of moisture on his skin. You needed space, you needed to get away; but Loki’s grip didn’t relent. “Loki, stop, don’t be indecent--”

“ _ Me _ ? You’re telling me  _ I _ look indecent--” his cheek brushed against your’s, voice purring against the shell of your ear. He angled your face so his breath could run all across the side of your neck. “-- when  _ you  _ look like  _ this _ ?” 

Loki’s hand finally released your face, slowly tracing his fingers down your neck and to your exposed collarbone. Your breath caught in your throat, a flaming hot tingle erupting wherever his fingers touched. His hand dipped down dangerously low to the tops of your exposed cleavage. 

“ _ Oh gods-- _ ” you scrambled backwards, hastily redoing the front buttons of your dress that must’ve come undone while you slept. Now that you were finally noticing, your skirt had been ruffled up all the way to your mid thighs -- your hands flapped about you like a newborn bird, trying to recover every bit of exposed skin. Your hair must’ve been a mess too, rashly combing your fingers through it. 

The man hadn’t budged from his seat at the edge of the bed, shoulders squared and looking at you with some  _ predatory _ expression. Stray locks of damp hair framed his face, eyes glinting through them dangerously. You were scared, but  _ Norns _ , you had to squeeze your thighs together to hide your blush. You noticed how his hands seemed to twitch, the way the veins all over his arms strained and pulsed, the way his jaw was so tense and flexed ever now and again, as if he was holding back from saying something. Finally, he heaved a massive sigh, running his hand through his hair; strangely, he pulled part of his blanket over his lap, a fist resting there securely. 

“Get out.” 

You didn’t move, mouth only opening and closing with silent words of  _ why _ ? 

“Are you deaf, woman? Am I not being  _ clear  _ to you?” Loki’s voice raised a decibel, a redness blanketing his alabaster skin. “ _ Get out!! _ ” 

His tone made your heat turn to dread. You waited for another beat, but you could tell that he was serious. With a small nod, you carefully lifted yourself off the bed and padded across his room -- as if too loud of a noise or big of motions would make the man explode -- and made your way down his corridor. At his double doors, you paused; you didn’t hear any movement, no rustling of sheets, no footsteps, no awkward pleads to return or cheeky remarks. Just a silence. 

You shut the door gently behind you, leaning behind it as you hung your head in confusion.  _ What’s up with him?  _ Loki was an absolute sap last night -- he dried your tears, he cuddled, he was kind and gentle and darling. You were used to his mood swings, but. . . you had never seen  _ that  _ look on his face before. 

_ “‘Who are you. . . some goddess? Royalty? Nobility? _ ’”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. Whatever it was, you knew it couldn’t possibly be your fault; you were literally just sleeping after all. Loki was probably just redirecting his anger or something. Nothing unusual there. He’ll blow off his steam for a little while and be a-okay again. Just like always. 

“You.”

So caught up in your ruminations, you hadn’t even realized that someone had stopped in front of you. Beautifully woven slippers. An ethereal blush pink nightgown that flowed across an equally perfect feminine figure. A pouty expression with hateful eyes framed by effortlessly kept ringlets of luscious hair. 

“Princess Angrboda, I--!” you rushed to fix your posture, hands folding politely in front of you as you bowed your head. You swallowed nervously, thumbs fidgeting. “Good morning, my princess.” 

“You were at Freya’s garden luncheon yesterday. . .” she mused, seeing her foot tap against the floor. Without looking, you knew she was sizing you up. “The bug girl, right?” 

“That is correct, your highness.” You introduced yourself and your name, but something inside you knew she wasn’t listening.  _ I really hope that ‘Bug girl’ doesn’t stick as a name though.  _ You also ignored how she had just informally addressed the Allmother. 

“Hm. . .” a sharp nail titled your head up to look at her. Angrboda’s eyes squinted maliciously. “And  _ what  _ are you doing in front of my betrothed’s door at the crack of dawn?” 

_ Well, we actually fell asleep in each other’s arms and I just got kicked out while he was practically naked.  _ But you didn’t say that, because frankly, you would prefer to keep all your limbs, thank you very much.    
  


“I--” you cleared your throat with a cough, Angrboda’s talon of nail digging into the skin under your chin. “I usually come up in the morning to play chess with the prince. It’s a daily ritual of his.” 

“Chess? What is that?”

“It’s a strategic board game, your highness.”

“A game? Why have I never heard of it before?”

“It originates from Midgard, princess.” 

“ _ Midgard _ ?” she sneered. “Why would Loki want to have  _ anything  _ to do with that inferior realm? No, no that won’t do at all. . .” She waved her hand in a definitive shooing motion. “That’ll have to stop. Move along.” 

“But--” 

Angrboda’s eyebrows shot up, shocked that you had opened your mouth. She neared you, her taller stature glaring you down like the peon she thought you were. “Move. Along.  _ Now _ . I will not ask again.” 

Something hit your nose.  _ Sweetness _ . 

But you pushed the feeling down, just doing another humble bow and slipping by her without another word. As you rounded the corner, you heard the sound of the door creaking open and the intermingling of laughter. 

You chest tightened uncomfortably. 

\---

“My lady, what is all this?” Ingvarr picked up a book off your chaotic desk, one of many strewn haphazardly with notes and bookmarks peaking out every which way. The man rifled through the pages, reading the small notes you had attached to its pages aloud, “‘Possible cause, investigate further,’ ‘unlikely but plausible,’ ‘symptoms’. . . what do these notes mean, my lady? Anything I can help with?” 

You silently groaned, snapping the book in your hands shut with irritation. The young apprentice had been clingy ever since you clocked in this morning; you had literally not had five minutes of peace before it was interrupted by a question, or a comment, or some weird casual small talk. It made your skin crawl awkwardly. You plastered on a polite smile but grit your teeth. “No thank you, Ingvarr. I’m fine. Just doing some research, that’s all.” 

“On what?” he dropped the book back down, eyes roaming over all the other tomes and book covers. “There’s a lot here about Vanaheim. . . should we still be doing more research on them? I thought what we had done before the royal family’s trip was all we needed to do?” 

You sighed, gaze shifting back down to your mess with tired eyes.  _ Yes, what am I doing?  _ The window outside was already beginning to drift into the hazy purples and pinks of sunset. 

“Personal research, you could say,” you rubbed your eye, the long hours of fruitless reading and mental strain creeping up on you. “I just want to be . . .  _ entirely  _ informed for our Vanyr guests.”

Ingvarr nodded innocently, missing the obvious bitterness in your words. “That’s so like you, my lady -- always so hardworking and diligent,” he beamed. “Always going above and beyond!” 

_ Ugh. Stop.  _ You didn’t know how to accept compliments, so you just did another tight smile and nodded. Where was this neverending barrage of mushy remarks coming from? Even just this whole  _ over _ -friendliness? “Er-- Thank you, Ingvarr.”

“I’ll just be in the botanical history archives if you need me my lady -- don’t hesitate to call upon me!” With a skip in his step, Ingvarr finally made his way out of the study, thank the stars. Maybe you could actually focus uninterrupted. You gathered the pages of notes you had toiled on all day, as well as flipping open various books to highlighted pages. Keywords like ‘sweet smell.’ ‘infatuation,’ ‘seduction,’ and ‘spell’ were underlined or emphasized everywhere. 

You had concluded that something was wrong. From Loki’s high and low emotions, Angrboda’s simply  _ magical  _ effect on him, to the way the princess had him and the Allmother wrapped around her little finger -- something wasn’t right. It was drastic -- downright  _ crazy  _ to even think about it -- but something in your gut knew that Angrboda was using some dirty trick,  _ something  _ to get her way. You didn’t know if the princess could even use magic, but potions, alchemy, syphoned witchcraft; those were all possibilities, you thought. 

But the more you delved deeper into the rabbit hole, the more walls and dead-ends you encountered. Folk stories. Legends. Myths. Fairy tales. Mainly investigating Vanyr and Aesyr history, you found more fiction than fact. Stories of vengeful lovers and broken hearts using love potions or infatuated magic to get their way. It was  _ crazy _ ; were you really about to accuse the princess of Vanaheim of using a  _ love potion  _ to make Loki fall in love with her? Why would she even need one: beautiful, mannered, witty, poised, graceful, a  _ goddess  _ \-- she was the picture perfect woman. Who  _ wouldn’t  _ want her?

Loki wouldn’t. You knew Loki enough to at least know his type -- well, honestly speaking, sure, you could admit Angrboda was  _ totally  _ his type. Perfect body, perfect face, wild in bed most likely. (You mentally blocked out that last one.) But that only extended toward physical attraction; there was no way Angrboda would actually pique his interest further than that if she hadn’t played dirty. There was no way Loki would like a woman like her. You  _ know  _ Loki. Even if you didn’t know Angrboda that well, if her past actions were any indication, she was rotten, foul,  _ loathsome _ \--

An inconspicuous hand knocked gently on your wood desk, Lord Torsten clearing his throat. He laid a folded note in front of you, slipping back to his desk and resuming his work as if nothing had happened. You opened the note and read it silently. 

_ “Child, you look ready to rip those books apart. You're making some of the other scholars uncomfortable. _

Your eyes lifted from the paper, only now noticing that yes, your older peers had indeed been shifting uncomfortably at their desks as they all shot wary glances at you. Gods, you must look like a maniac right now -- eyes crazed surrounded by a rat pile of bound and loose paper alike. You returned to the note, lifting the paper a bit higher to now shield your embarrassed face. 

_ “-- Go take the rest of the day off. It seems to be a wonderfully temperate evening outside. I will finish any leftover work, though I doubt you’ve left anything for me to worry about.  _

_ \--Torsten _

_ PS: You didn’t hear this from me, but Nessie should be baking some of her famous raspberry-almond tarts in the kitchen right now. Would you do me the favor and see how she’s doing? And perhaps bring me one if they’re finished?” _

Your stomach grumbled. You really hadn’t had a proper meal all day. From the note in your hand to the work on your desk, your mind battled with your stomach. With another pained growl, your hunger won out in the end. 

\---

“Nessie?” you called out as you entered the lively palace kitchens, buzzing and warm and filled with the delicious smells of that night’s cooking dinner. The girl whizzed around, food-stained apron and a big gentle smile adorning her features. Despite all her awkwardness and timidity in court, she was a master in the kitchen -- it was like she was brought to life next to a hearth, burning with passion and vigor and pride. Here, she actually let her walls down and maybe even considered yourselves friends. 

“Hello, my lady!” she beamed over her shoulder, her hands still busy kneading some dough on the counter in front of her. “Hungry?” 

“Famished,” you admitted with a giggle. You stepped beside her, carefully dodging other passing cooks and servants. “What’re you making?” 

“Some simple brioche, nothing special,” she laughed. 

“Nessie, anything  _ you  _ make is special,” you mocked jokingly. “Compared to me, I can’t seem to even crack an egg properly.” 

“You just need practice, that’s all,” she rolled the dough one final time before plopping it into a bowl and covering it with a cloth, now fully turning to face you with a sassy hand on her hip. “And yet, you always refuse my offers to help teach you.”

“Maybe when I get more free time,” you picked at crumbs on the counter absentmindedly. 

“I could always ask my father to let you have more off days, you know. He already thinks that you overwork as it is--”

“Nessie,” you cut, yet still lighthearted. “I love my work. Yes, it’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but I still love it. I’m fine! Besides, speaking of your father--” you leaned in closer with a hushed voice. “-- Rumor has it you made some of your signature tarts?” 

She squinted. “How did you hear about that?” 

“Your father, duh. Who else?” you cackled as she huffed in annoyance. “He asked me to bring him one.”

“Of course that gluttonous old coot knew I’d be making them. I swear he has a sixth sense about these things--” Nessie rambled on as she weaved about the kitchen, you following in her shadow. “You know, this batch is  _ particularly  _ good today. The Vanaheim commissary delivered some of their own raspberries from their realm, and they are just gorgeous! Every single one, perfectly red, juicy, and no dried out bulbs. . .” she disappeared into a food closet, emerging with a covered tray. “I really do think these are the best tarts I’ve made by far.” 

“Wow, now I really must try one,” you practically salivated; but when you reached to uncover the tray, Nessie pulled it back. “Nessie! C’mon, please? Just one for me and your father?” 

“They’re  _ supposed  _ to be for their royal highnesses’ table tonight. Really, it’s almost criminal that I even brought these out.” She gave you one final cautious glance, before her shoulders finally sagged. “. . . But I suppose--” 

She didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence before your hands shot out and greedily pulled back the cover of the tray -- twenty perfectly immaculate, stunning,  _ delectable  _ red raspberry tarts with walnut gems adorning their shiny, perfectly buttery crusted faces. Your stomach wept with joy. You delicately pulled one up, so perfect and firm in your hand, and inhaled its rich berry scent; then a drawn-out bite. 

“ _ Mmmm. . .! _ ” 

“Good, right?” Nessie giggled. 

“You are  _ so  _ right,” you breathed through another worshipping bite. “These are definitely the best you’ve ever made. I just know that they’re all going to be fighting over these tonight.” 

Nessie gave a proud nod, chin held a bit higher. With a bittersweet final bite, your tart was gone and your tongue licked at your mouth and fingers for any stray flavor left. The girl headed back in the closet, returning with a single tart wrapped in napkin, handing it to you discreetly. 

“Tell my father that he better appreciate these. And also that I love him and hope he comes home early to dinner for once.”

\---

You strolled through the halls of the palace back on your way to the royal study, the tart tucked discreetly against your middle. The way was empty -- you knew just which areas of the palace were lifeless and when, after years of practiced effort and observation. It was peaceful. Quiet. Gave you space to think. 

But you didn’t exactly want to be left alone with your thoughts right now. Your mind drifted to Loki -- the way he was cuddled next to you so gently last night, the way his body glistened this morning, the way his eyes burned as he yelled at you to leave. It made your insides flutter and knot spontaneously. Shiver and burn all at once. 

_ No, stop. Just stop. Stop thinking about it.  _

But that was the thing about you -- you could never stop thinking. Never ever stop thinking, no matter how much you wished you could. Next, thoughts of Princess Angrboda. Her beauty, her malice, her cruel attitude toward Lady Sif. And Lady Sif -- for how long could she really avoid the princess? As long as she stayed near Thor, and Thor stayed near Loki -- something would inevitably happen again. Then, your conspiracy theories. You replayed them sequentially in your mind: love potion. Siphoned magic. Perhaps Angrboda attached some charm on Loki? Maybe there was a necklace you missed, a ring, an anklet, a damn piercing or something. 

_ Norns, I do sound crazy _ . 

But then, what was the alternative? The alternative reality was  _ entirely _ out of the question. You know Loki. No matter what he says, you know the truth. You know that Loki-- that he -- that he would never  _ actually _ \-- 

“. . . My princess. . . “

You felt a breeze softly caress your cheek, pulling you out of your mind; it blew in from a slightly ajar balcony door. Your feet stopped dead in their tracks, your face simply turning toward the direction of the ghostly wind. There were cream chiffon drapes over the doors, only being able to make out muffled conversation and hazy figures; but a flutter of the curtain here and there revealed slivers of a perfectly clear image. Dark hair. An ethereal dress. Huddled closely together, latched in each other’s arms. The setting Asgardian sun illuminated their figures like a painting, silhouettes against a gorgeous tangerine sky. 

_ Look away. Look away now.  _

But you didn’t. You only stepped slightly closer to make out the arcadian words, you yourself remaining in the shadows and out of sight. 

“. . . My prince Loki, how amazing. . .!” 

Sparkling swirls of emerald light shimmered in Loki’s palm, the light glinting off the newly formed ice figure like a diamond. You couldn’t exactly tell what it was, but it made Angrboda squeal in delight, taking the figure in her own hands. She held it up in the air so even more light could reflect off of it. Rainbow glares burned your eyes. 

“How exquisite, you are truly  _ marvelous,  _ my prince,” she cooed in a voice dripping with so much affection that it made your skin itch. 

“Do you like it, my princess?”  _ Why does Loki’s voice sound like that? Why does it sound so soft, so kind? He’s never used that voice for anyone else except--  _

“I  _ love  _ it, Loki,” she coiled herself tighter against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Just like how much I love  _ you _ .” 

_ What a joke. She can’t be serious _ . But then his arm reciprocated, wrapping around her waist, with this  _ expression _ \-- you had never in all your years seen anything like it. Loki looked. . . he looked--

“Truly?” 

“Truly.” 

“Then prove it, my love.”

“With  _ pleasure _ . . .”

Something cracked in you. Broke, maybe. It was hard to tell as your eyes watched in horror at what you were seeing. 

They were kissing -- not innocently either. No, not like those in the stories you read as a child. It was so real and so graphically  _ adult _ ; tongues and hands and biting and saliva and --

“--!” 

Loki broke away suddenly, face perking with alertness. He separated from the princess who whined in response, but he ignored her, nearing the balcony door warily. 

“My prince, what is it?’ 

“Something. . .” he mumbled quietly, stepping closer and closer to the door. “I thought I heard something. . .” With a swift swing of the door, the curtain swept about him as he surveyed the dark hallway inside. Empty. Not a soul in sight. 

Although, his eyes did land on a broken pastry lying in pieces on the floor. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Spar for the Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning miseries to some. . . 'friendly' sparring. 
> 
> (tw: choking. And not the sexy kind, I'm afraid.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Firstly, thank you for everyone's continued support and love. Writing this has literally been one of my greatest joys and hobbies, so I'm so happy people enjoy it as much as I love writing it. 
> 
> Secondly, I'm so sorry that this chapter came late literally as I had just said I would be updating on the weekends. My friend died from COVID last Sunday, so I've just been out of sorts recently and failed to update then. I tried my best to pull through and finish this chapter, but I apologize if it feels a bit all over the place / if there are some glaring grammatical errors. I made this chapter a bit longer to compensate for my tardiness. 
> 
> Remember to stay safe and be socially responsible, even if you're vaccinated! 
> 
> And as always, thank you so much for reading!

_ Loki broke away suddenly, face perking with alertness. He separated from the princess who whined in response, but he ignored her, nearing the balcony door warily.  _

__

_ “My prince, what is it?’  _

__

_ “Something. . .” he mumbled quietly, stepping closer and closer to the door. “I thought I heard something. . .” With a swift swing of the door, the curtain swept about him as he surveyed the dark hallway inside. Empty. Not a soul in sight.  _

__

_ Although, his eyes did land on a broken pastry lying in pieces on the floor.  _

\---

You hadn’t slept well. You couldn’t hold down any food either, having skipped dinner entirely last night. You had burrowed yourself in your room, a tight ball of straining muscles and tension wrapped up like a cocoon in your sheets. The night was spent tossing and turning, stomach churning like pulled taffy. Sometime in the night you passed out. In the morning, the world was quiet, the birds’ songs sounding distant and hollow. The sunlight had no warmth. But you made your resolve -- you needed to do something. 

Despite having made the morning journey to Loki’s bedchambers millions of times before, now the way seemed long, tedious; the great hallways foreboding and the sound of your echoing footsteps, ominous. You held your father’s chess set closer to your chest for comfort, hoping that you could somehow ignore the clamminess of your hands, the stammer in your step. You didn’t care about Angrboda’s threat the previous day. Loki had said it himself -- what does  _ she  _ have to do with  _ us _ ? 

At the sight of his doors, you hesitated. With a mental slap to your wrist, you forced yourself forward with the best smile you could muster.  _ Act normal. Act normal. Everything is fine. Act normal.  _

_ Knock-Knock _

Nothing. 

_ Knock-Knock! _

Again, nothing. Was he still asleep? 

_ Knock! Knock! Knock!  _

“Loki?” you called through the door in a hushed voice. “Loki, you awake?”

_ Knock! Knock! Knock! _

“Loki? Hello? He~ _ llo~ _ ?”

_ Knock! Knock! KNOCK!  _

“Loki?  _ Loki _ !!” 

“--Would you be  _ quiet _ ! I said I was  _ not  _ to be disturbed--!” 

Loki’s face dropped at the sight of you. You caught yourself mid-knock, quickly dropping your fist as Loki suddenly swung one of his doors open-- but only slightly, his body filling up the space of the opening. The prince already seemed fully dressed in his day-to-day garbs, eyes darting back and forth between his room and you. He huffed as he flightily looked you over, eyes furrowed and cleared his throat. “What is it?” 

_ Good morning to you, too.  _ You were still caught off guard, hastily trying to compose yourself, motioning to the chess set in your arms. You replastered your nonchalant smile. 

“You-- uh,  _ ahem _ \--” you coughed awkwardly. “--You ready to lose?” your awkward little laugh did nothing to abate the man’s sternness. ‘ _ You ready to lose?’  _ Really? That’s the best you could come up with? 

“Ah, yes, right, that. . .” Loki ran a hand through his hair with a nervous chuckle. “Let’s take a raincheck on that, alright, my dear? Perhaps tomorrow morning--”

_ Sniff. Hm?  _

“ _ What _ is that?” your eyes lost focus as a smell wafted from his room, heavy and clear like a scented candle. You stepped closer to the door, making Loki draw back ever so slightly -- you sniffed at him.  _ Sweetness _ . Saccharine and sugary, clinging to the air around him like perfume.“What’s that smell?” 

“Smell? What smell?” puzzled, he sniffed the air too. “Woman, I  _ swear _ , if you’re telling me my scent indicates poor hygiene--”

“No, no!” you shook your head, brows still scrunched together in thought. “This  _ smell _ . . . I don’t know, I’ve been noticing it--”  _ Again and again. There’s no way I’m imagining it, right?  _ You shook your head, rubbing an eye tiredly. “Maybe I’m just crazy.” 

“Quite.”

“Like you’re any better,” you made a lunge to playfully punch his shoulder, but Loki recoiled. If he had literally slapped your arm away, it would have had the same effect. 

“Is everything alright?” you tried to laugh it off, ignoring the dull ache in your chest. 

“Yes, fine--” 

“So why are you acting like you’re hiding something?” you raised a brow with a cocky smirk. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrunk the opening of the door further, but you wedged yourself in, stopping the door with your arm. Loki looked down at you incredulously. 

“Of course, of course, then you wouldn’t mind if I came in just for one quick game then?” you got on your toes to peak over his shoulders, but the man continued to just maneuver his body to block your gaze. 

“Woman, really, I’ll play with you later! I’m preoccupied at the moment--” 

“ _ Preoccupied _ ? What could you possibly be busy with so early?” you chortled. “It’s not like there’s anyone with you--” 

“. . .  _ Ah. . . Loki. . . stop, she’ll hear. . .  _ ” 

“ _. . . Shh. . .  _ “

Soft sighs. Quiet giggles. 

_ Ah. _

_ I see.  _

You froze. Your eyes slowly dragged up to Loki’s face; his jaw was sternly set, not even looking at you in the eyes. Or maybe he wasn’t able to. You saw the way his brow twitched. Tentatively, you raised a hand to his chest, and this time, Loki didn’t pull away -- your fingers phased through him in a shimmer of jade light like he was smoke. Which was exactly what he was. Smoke.  _ Not real _ . 

“You--” you scoffed with some pitiful laugh. “A mirage. Well, isn’t this a first.”

“Woman--” 

“A  _ mirage _ , huh? You couldn't even put in the effort for a physical clone?” you cut, not being able to hide the bile rising in your throat. You shook your head as you stepped back, hugging the board game set tightly to you. 

“My dear--” 

“I hope you have a wonderful morning, your highness,” you curtly bowed and turned tail, not even waiting to hear if the door closed behind you. 

\---

_ The muffled sound of yelling. Some screams. The pitiful sputtering noise of someone begging for air.  _

_ “Say it again, you snivelling, weak fucking fool. I dare you. Say it again.”  _

_ Loki’s grip tightened mercilessly around his victim’s neck, pushing the other man further up against the secluded palace hallway’s wall. The man, an old vizier named Lord Basil, was going purple and blue, his eyes bulging out of his head as his feet dangled dangerously off the ground. But the Prince didn’t relent, only taking in the pleasure of his pain with glee in his smile.  _

_ “--mm--gAh--ck--!!”  _

_ “What? Not so lippy now, eh?” his fingernails were drawing blood from the vizier’s neck.  _

_ “Loki!”  _

_ The prince didn’t even bother to look at you as you rounded the corner of the hall, finally finding him after your search; he had just disappeared after the security council meeting. It was still all new to you, you having only recently reached the age and scholarly mastery to be allowed to attend such matters, but everything had been going well so far -- that is, until today’s meeting.  _

_ Your gut feeling was right. You carefully neared the two, putting your hands up like you were comforting a wild animal.  _

_ “Loki, let go of the man--”  _

_ “You would call this cretin a man?” he pulled another struggling gurgle from the man’s throat, making you wince. “This scum, this fucking cockroach no higher than the dirt beneath my feet.”  _

_ “Loki,” you pleaded, daring to place a hand on his straining arm. The prince stiffened at your touch. “He’s not worth your time. He’s not worth it.”  _

_ “Oh, I know,” he snickered, and you could see the blood start to drip from his fingers. “All the more reason I should just kill him now and end his meaningless existence--” _

_ “The Allfather, Loki! Think of Odin!” your grip hardened around his arm, your other hand trying to twist his shoulder to look at you; but, of course, he didn’t budge. “The Allfather isn’t going to like it when he finds out you’ve chased away another member of his court.”  _

_ “And how would he find out?” His glare finally bothered to turn to you, feeling the full intensity of his seething rage. It made you shiver. “You would tell him?”  _

_ You gulped, opening your mouth but no words came out. The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched, something soft flickering across his expression; but it disappeared just as quickly, hardening once again into pure sadistic malice as he returned to face Lord Basil. You noticed how his hand stilled, no longer tightening around his pitiful neck.  _

_ “Loki, please,” you implored quietly. “Stop. Please, he’s not worth it.”  _

_ The prince’s jaw ticked and tensed, eyes darting to look at you; his resolve was wavering, the redness of his face slowly dissipating. It was when you saw how Lord Basil’s eyes started to flutter close that you asked again -- and that seemed to reach him.  _

_ With a growl and harsh click of his tongue, Loki finally relented and stepped away with a heaving chest. Lord Basil slumped to the floor like a sack of meat and bones; he choked and coughed as he desperately tried to gulp air back into his lungs. Instinctively, you bent down to try and help the old man, earning another scornful chuckle a few feet away.  _

_ “Disgusting,” Loki stretched his wrist casually as if he had just finished some sport. “What a disgusting display of pity.”  _

_ “You--!!” Lord Basil finally found the strength to spit vile with his graveled voice, gripping the wall behind him as he struggled to his shaking feet. “You hateful, evil bastard child! Son of evil incarnate! I’ll have the Allfather’s wrath on you for this-- this --”  _

_ “I’m trembling in my boots,” the prince rolled his eyes with a scoff.  _

_ “My lord--” you tried to help steady the older man, but he slapped your arm away sharply.  _

_ “Don’t touch me you lowly bitch!”  _

_ In the blink of an eye and a blurring image, Loki had once again pinned Lord Basil to the wall -- this time, with a gleaming black knife slicing precipitously at his jugular.  _

_ “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t slice you from crown to toe right now.” _

_ Lord Basil’s expression of fear returned, turned back into a wide-eyed gaping visage. He held his hands up in begging surrender. “I-- I-- um-- I--” whimpering like a broken record.  _

_ “‘I, I, I’-- What? Spit it the fuck out!” Loki roared, renewed ire blazing through him. “Any more of your forsaken words will only add more vigor as I execute your death wish!”  _

_ “I-- I--”  _

_ “Very well then!”  _

_ He wheeled his arm back to thrust the finishing slice, but before his blade could come down, you gripped his shoulder and gave it a forceful squeeze -- the tip of Loki’s blade stopped a millimeter before Basil’s bobbing throat. He gave you a fiery glance, but you only gripped his shoulder tighter, knowingly. With a raised brow, he hesitantly stepped back. The old man relaxed against the wall with ragged breaths, but you gave him no time to recuperate as you took Loki’s place in front of him.  _

_ “Lord Basil,” your voice was cold, your face as unfeeling as you could make it. “Your wife is a countess, no? Daughter to one of our main shipping ambassadors from Niflheim? And your daughter, currently employed as one of the Allmother’s handmaidens?”  _

_ The man nodded glumly, still wanting to retort at your insolence -- but one glance at Loki’s bated enraged form from behind you silenced him completely, nursing his hand against his bruised and bloodied neck.  _

_ “Then,” you squinted, voice dipping viciously. “Does your wife know of that den of prostitutes you’ve been patroning? That poor village girl you knocked up only last month? Sweet-mouthed Angelica, no?”  _

_ All the color flushed from Basil’s face, blanching; and you didn’t need to see it, but you could feel Loki’s surprise at the news as well.  _

_ “You-- you wouldn’t--” _

_ “It’s not about what  _ I  _ will do, my lord. The question is what  _ you  _ will do,” you closed in, staring down into his terrified eyes. “I may not be anywhere near your stature or nobility, Lord Basil, but everything you have-- your family, your wealth, your reputation -- I can have it all taken away in a single night. Remember that.”  _

_ There was a tingling feeling deep in your chest; some peculiar thrill at the sight of how his mighty man of power cowered in fear. But you bit the feeling down, stepping back and motioning your head gruffly.  _

_ “Go,” you ordered. “And mind your words in the presence of a prince of Asgard if you want to keep your head.”  _

_ Basil hesitated for a moment, eyes still darting between the two predators ready to eat him up in a single bite. He huffed in one last show of feigned confidence, readjusting the robes on his body. The old vizier finally pulled himself off the wall, limping off in defeat.  _

_ “Damned Jotunn bastard . . .”  _

_ You watched as Basil’s hunched figure disappeared around the corner; neither you nor Loki had moved at all, you still facing the wall with your back turned on the prince. The air was still pregnant, heavy.  _

_ “I should have killed him.” _

_ “And let there be another fiasco about a missing noble’s body turning up in the woods? Not again, Loki,” you finally turned to face him-- the breath was knocked out of you at the sight. He was much closer than you anticipated, really only a foot away; shoulders squared, eyes hooded and dark, jaw tensed and straining as he loomed over you. “It was for the best.”  _

_ “At least you should have let me cut his legs off. He shouldn't have such a privilege.”  _

_ “Loki. . .” your voice went soft, hands reaching up to grip his shoulders in comfort. He was a bundle of tensity, but your soothing motions caused his shoulders to relax by the tiniest degree. “Let it go. He’s just one ignorant fool. It’s not worth your ire.”  _

_ “I should have ripped his tongue out. Sliced it out of him in that room. The gall of that roach to call me that in front of the royal counsel. To call me a--”  _

_ A monster.  _

_ Basil had always been one of those purists staunchly against the Asyr’s age-old enemies, the Jotunn. In turn, the man hated Loki the moment Odin had taken him in as his own. The two had always bit and butted heads, but when the lord finally let the slur burn the air today. . . well, Loki was Loki. The meeting was cut short as the prince dragged the man away by his throat -- literally, if that wasn’t obvious. _

_ “Hey,” you gripped his shoulders tighter, as if that could somehow melt the unease away. You earnestly stared up at him, hating the way his brows furrowed in both anger and. . . pain. “Would you really believe the words of a roach? Do his words have any sway in your character?”  _

_ “Of course not, woman, never in a millenia would such primitive insults from an inferior affect me--”  _

_ “Exactly. You are the prince of Asgard. A  _ prince _ in line for the greatest throne in all the Nine Realms. A man of importance, of character, of true, irrefutable nobility. By the stars, Loki, you’re a god!” you laughed breathily, your heart lightening at the way Loki’s face softened at your words. “Does a measly weasel like Basil really deserve a second glance from a god?”  _

_ At that, Loki’s cheeks crinkled into a beautiful little smile. Not a smirk, a smile. It made your heart leap up out of your chest. Loki’s hands came up to encircle your wrists, rubbing them with his thumbs in appreciation. The feeling of his ever chilled hands made your skin tingle, your stomach twisting in delight.  _

_ “I must say I’m impressed,” he chuckled under his breath. “How ever did you know about his salacious little secrets?”  _

_ “Lord Torsten loves to talk,” you shrugged, feeling your own mischievous smile on your lips. “And I can’t help but listen.” _

_ “Little minx.” _

_ “I try,” you sighed in a playful confidence. “Now, come; I heard Thor is going to try to clear that chasm in the southern fen with only an old cart and a running start.”  _

_ “Ha!” Loki guffawed, all traces of any miasma in the air clearing completely. His eyes glittered like freshly dewed grass. “How could I refuse you?”  _

\---

It’s been more than a week. 

Days of you bitterly engrossed in your books and work, days of you snapping at people who get too close, days of you just sulking around the palace and avoiding a certain prince like your life depended on it. But, of course, you saw wisps and whispers of  _ them  _ from time to time-- arm in arm, strolling through the gardens. Or maybe you saw them laughing together at the high table at dinner. One time you could even swore you saw them sneaking into some random janitor’s closet as you entered a hallway. You had wanted to fold and give in every morning that you woke up and impulsively itched to head up to his royal bedchambers for your routine match -- but you couldn’t.  _ Wouldn’t _ .

“ _ Whatever _ ,” you spat, as you glared out into the map of stars from the Bifrost gate’s open portal. You sat with a leg dangling over the edge, one crossed beneath the other. “If he wants to spend time with her, that’s his prerogative. Why should I care?” 

You didn’t see it, but Heimdall rolled his eyes from his perpetual stance by his sword; his temples were thumping with a headache. You had been coming to vent to him for as long as you’ve been avoiding Loki. 

“You are right. It is entirely within his rights to do so, especially more due to his relationship with the princess,” Heimdall’s words were practiced and robotic, repeated over and over from the past few days. “You should not care.” 

“Doesn’t even bother to ask for me all this time. . .” you huffed under your breath with an aggressive swing of your leg. “It’s like I’m not even here.”

_ Like I’m not even here _ . 

“My lady, you are being too harsh on him--” Heimdall cleared his throat as you whipped around to glare at him. “What I mean is, perhaps this may be a blessing in disguise. A chance for you to nurture your other relationships.” 

“This feels like the furthest thing from a blessing, Heimdall,” you returned your gaze to the stars, plopping your chin down on your knee. “This sucks.”

“Then why don’t you just approach the prince already, my lady? You’re obviously already suffering enough as is.” 

“And give that dick the joy of me groveling to simply notice me?” you sneered with a click of your tongue. “As if. I still have my pride.” 

“A foolish pride.”

“Pride nonetheless,” you countered. “He needs to be the one to realize his mistake this time. He--” you shook your head, a sad little laugh escaping you. “. . . I still can’t believe he used a  _ mirage  _ on  _ me _ .” 

It was one of Loki’s simplest, oldest tricks; manipulating the air to hold a fleeting image. To anyone else, it was just a meaningless, harmless little prank. On  _ you _ , however, and in the context of that morning. . . Loki had never chosen anyone else  _ over  _ you before. Your morning chess games were almost sacred; you lost count of all the times he’s missed more important matters like royal meetings and the like for you. Loki had  _ never  _ sent a weak little ghost to greet you before. 

Heimdall understood this -- he knew how much such a measly little action wrecked your pride and hurt your feelings. He was honestly just as surprised as you were; he knew just how out of character it was. It wasn’t mischievous, wasn’t playful, wasn’t meant as a joke -- it was like Loki treated you like nothing more than an annoyance. Not so weird for anyone else. . . but  _ you _ ? And, when added on to the weight of your feelings Heimdall knew you harbored for the prince. . . he understood where all this petty avoidance and anger was coming from. 

“Heimdall?”

“Yes, my lady?” his ears pricked up at the new tone in your voice. Hesitant, cautious. 

“Have you--  _ um _ . . . “ you twisted your fingers nervously in your lap, contemplating whether to really ask the question that’s been on the back-burner of your mind for days. “Have you noticed anything  _ strange  _ about the Vanyr princess? Princess Angrboda?” 

“Strange?” you could hear how his armor crinkled behind you as he shifted on his feet in thought. “Whatever do you mean?” 

“I don’t know, erm--” you shrugged. “Just anything out of the ordinary? Strange. . . strange magic, perhaps?” 

“The Princess Angrboda cannot use magic, my lady.”

“I know that, I know, but have you really not seen  _ anything _ suspicious--” 

“ _ My lady _ ,” Heimdall bit authoritatively, in that voice he used when addressing serious matters. “Those are dangerous roads of thought. Accusatory, arguably even treasonous. Such as which I am not at liberty to verify or deny if not at the behest of the Allfather himself.” 

After a beat you simply nodded, knowing you could never get more information out of him. He was practically an impregnable vault. You returned to sullenly gazing out into the distance, the mesmerizing stars seeming to have lost a bit of their luster in your sordid self-imposed isolation. Your mind still battled itself in its conflicts.  _ Just go back and talk to him -- act like it never even happened. Just get over your pride!  _ Versus thoughts like,  _ Are you really that much of a wimp that you’ll go begging for him to notice you? Damn Loki! If he wants space, fine, give it to him! He can prance around with that princess for all you care! _

“Stop paying him mind.” 

“What?” you leaned back to look at the steadfast guardian. 

“Even without seeing him, you are giving him the satisfaction of rifling your mind with worry and angst. It’s unbecoming, my lady. You’re better than this,” he sternly nodded affirmatively. “Get your mind off Loki. ” 

You were slightly taken aback by how straightforward the usual cryptic man was being. You shook your head glumly, “I can’t, Heimdall. You of all people know I’ve tried--” 

“Then try again. Try harder. Overcome this little thing, my lady,” his amber eyes glinted beneath a stoic expression. “There are surely harsher storms to come.” 

“‘Harsher storms’?” you stood now, curious. “What do you mean--?”

“ _ Ahem _ ,” he coughed. “I believe there is someone calling for you at the palace training grounds. It would do you good to heed their call as soon as possible.” 

You rolled your eyes. Back to his old cryptic self, then. 

\---

_ Clang! _

A parry, swipe, quick dodge just before Sif’s blunt training sword almost struck your side. Your lungs burned with fatigue and sweat beaded your skin; you were thankful for the short training skirt and armor Sif leant to you for this purpose, much more breathable and moveable than your usual drab dresses. The two of you moved across the outer sparring grounds, struggling to keep pace with the warrior goddess’ moves. 

“You’re surprisingly spry!” she laughed your name as you continued to hold your own. “And you really don’t train that often?” 

“I’m sure--”  _ clang!  _ A hard parry with your own sword that had your wrist buzzing with pain. “-- Could we not take a break?” 

Sif paused her movements, thank the stars, raising a curious brow. “Tired already?”

“Very much so,” you sighed with an exhausted laugh, wiping your face with the back of your hand. Sif nodded, obviously a little disappointed -- she didn’t seem to have even broken a sweat yet, despite the two of you having been practicing for the past three hours or so already. 

“Let’s take a break then,” she clapped a hand on your shoulder amiably, leading you over to a nearby shaded tree with a bench and pails of water beneath it. Filling a cup, she handed you the drink and you gulped it down greedily like you had never gotten a sip of water in your entire life. In the midst of your glugging frenzy, you almost didn’t catch a booming voice in the distance -- a familiar warm sound that yelled your name. 

“My lady! I never thought I would see you here!”

You dropped the cup lazily back on the bench as giddiness filled your lungs. 

“Thor!”

You ran over to greet him, jumping up and throwing your arms around the bear of a man; he accepted it eagerly, spinning you round as your laughters mingled in the air. Thor’s embrace left you breathless, literally squeezing you like a stuffed animal. He finally placed you back on your feet after an eternity of swinging (leaving you admittedly a bit dizzy); his gaze dripped with mirth. Sif giggled as she came to your sides as well, offering her own quick friendly greeting to the prince. 

“Training then, Sif? How many times has the lady already fallen on her ass, pray tell?” 

“Hey!” you smacked Thor’s silver-plated pec with a scolding laugh. 

“None, in fact,” Sif raised a brow at you as she placed her hands on her hips. “You never told me that you were hiding away such a great warrior, Thor.”

“Oh!--um,” you blushed at Sif’s unadulterated praise. Damn, you had never been complimented so outright before. “T-thank you, Sif, but you’re being too kind. There’s no need to sugar coat things. I can handle it, truly!” 

“You think I would lie about such things, my lady? I can see great potential when I find it -- sure, you lack the physical prowess and power, but your speed and agility are good enough to keep up with  _ me _ ,” she tapped a finger against your forehead. “Not to mention your mind. Usually thinking just slows people down, but Norns, I can see how your brain responds to each of my attacks and strategizes as fast as lightning!”

Gods, Sif really wasn’t one to shy away from gushing compliments -- you were stunned into a bashful silence, your face hot with all the attention she’s apparently been giving you. To be told you had potential to be a great warrior by the warrior goddess herself?  _ Wow _ . 

“Hmm. . .” Thor took a few steps back, rubbing at his scruffy beard in thought. He looked you up and down, your gut twisting at what you knew he was going to ask next. The prince spoke your name with a laugh, “If all that Sif says is true, then I must have a taste of this great potential then!” 

_ Oh Norns no _ . Sif was one thing; Thor was another. The last time you had sparred with him, it almost left you with some fractured bones and some nasty scars and bruises. 

“Uh-- no, actually, I’ll just rest back here--”

“Wonderful idea, Thor!” Sif gleamed, excitement sparkling in her eyes. “You’ll see how much you underestimate her.” 

_ Shit.  _ Great. Now you  _ have  _ to fight Thor. You couldn’t just disappoint Sif when she obviously had such high hopes.  _ Dammit. Fuck _ . 

With another look at Sif, you hoped she could somehow sense your unease. But she seemed so giddy, eyes bright with the possibility of showing you off. 

_ Dammit it all.  _

You nodded your head sheepishly. 

“It’s decided then! A quick spar between us then, my lady!” Thor boomed with a toothy grin, feeling the electricity of his excitement in the air. 

Thor led the way back to the middle of the sparring arena as you followed (begrudgingly); the prince dropped his signature crimson cape along the way, letting it drop messily on the floor. He picked up a nearby blunt sword, stretching his grip and arms as he warmed up for battle, his unbelievably huge muscles rippling in the sunlight -- your stomach knotted in dread, your hands going clammy around your own sword. 

_ Breathe.  _ You forced your anxious heart to still, settling into your own fighting stance. A beat passed, the two of you just waiting for the other to make the first move; but as you expected, Thor was the first, coming out with a fierce swing of his sword. 

_ Clang! Clang!  _ The edges of the swords butted and parried, and you immediately felt the pain and aftershocks of Thor’s overwhelming strength -- if Sif was a butterfly, Thor was an elephant. Maybe two elephants merged into one huge massive fucking behemoth. 

“-- _ Ack! _ ” you spat as Thor managed to get your thigh as you were too slow to dodge. Even though it was only the latter half of a swing, you know that the hit would turn into a gross bruise later.  _ Okay, hits aren’t an option. No way am I gonna last if I just keep taking hits head on _ . 

Speed. Agility. What Thor had in brute strength, he lacked in nimbleness or grace.  _ Swing. Hit. Swing. Roundabout _ . He was straightforward and predictable, always on the offensive. There were patterns in his swings, seeing the way his muscles contracted just before he pulled back his sword. 

_ Bang! _ You sent Thor a couple steps back as you had actually managed to land a blow to the side of his armored chest. 

“--!” Thor’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, his smile dropping. 

“What?” you laughed. “Do you yield?” 

Thor shook out his shoulders, returning to his battle stance. Although his smile had returned, you could still see traces of his shock in his eyes. “I’m just getting started!”

_ Clang! Clang! Crash! Bang! Clang! _

The prince’s renewed energy overwhelmed you, but you gave everything you had in you to parry his attacks and hold your own. He landed more blows on you, knocking you to your knees a few times, but you had managed to return the favor in others, landing some more hits of your own. Sweat was running down your back and your chest struggled to intake any air as Thor still seemed peachy-keen; but you kept going, refusing to yield despite all your screaming muscles begging for reprieve. 

You could tell that Thor was enjoying himself if his laughter and non-stop grinning were any indication. Honestly, it  _ was  _ a great shock to hear you being so lauded by so legendary a warrior as Sif-- especially about  _ you _ . He always knew you as that shy, reclusive bookworm that loved to tease his little brother as much as he did. But seeing  _ this  _ side of you-- Sif had hit it on the bullseye. Where had you been hiding all this time? 

_ Clang!  _ A particularly hard hit from both of your swords sent the both of you reeling back. You both paused, chests heaving and ragged. Thor straightened, breaking out into a laugh. 

“That was amazing, my lady!” he neared you casually and you relaxed in turn. “Where did you learn to fight like that? Surely not just from all those old books you always have your nose in?” 

“Instinct,” you shrugged as you lowered your sword, exhausted, the formation of words the hardest task in the world right now. 

“Then that is some fearsome instinct,” Thor nodded, uncharacteristically quiet as he caught his breath. The way he looked at you made you uneasy; his eyes roamed your form, like he was drinking you in. There was an intensity, a heat -- it made your skin crawl queasily. 

“I’m beat. Let’s just leave it at a draw for today,” you nervously chuckled, trying to diffuse the growing tension between you. From your side eye, you saw Sif by the benches already preparing you two some cups of water; you turned to leave her, but Thor caught your wrist in a fierce grip, almost making you fall with the recoil alone. 

“Wait,” he bit in a gravelled tone. “We can’t just leave it at a draw.” 

“Erm--” your eyes darted back and forth between his grip and his dead-serious expression. You couldn’t budge in his massive grip. You laughed again awkwardly, “Thor, I’m tired. You forget that I was just training with Sif before you joined us. I bet she would be more than happy to take my place--” 

“ _ No _ ,” Thor’s grip tightened to a painful degree, making you wince unciously as he pulled you back to him forcefully. “No, I want to keep fighting you. Not Sif.” You nervously glanced back at the woman in question, who now looked as equally confused by the prince’s behavior as you; she looked on with furrowed brows. 

“Thor, let go,” you pulled back, but he kept gripping you  _ tighter.  _

“Not until you finish what you started,” Thor smirked with a dark tone.  _ Smirked _ ? 

You were still hopelessly confused, but fine -- it was obvious the prince wasn’t going to let this drop. You readied your grip with your sword still in hand, and finally made an offensive, swinging at him suddenly. 

The prince jumped back with a snicker, amused by your boldness, but effortlessly slipped back into the fight. It was more of the same; the two of you parrying and dodging. You danced around Thor as he lunged and jabbed as you once again felt your combined perspiration heat the air. But your fatigue was quickly gaining on you -- it was harder to dodge his movements, slower for your body to respond to your mind. You got stumbled and fell more often, much to your chagrin and Thor’s enjoyment. 

_ Clang!  _

_ Huh?  _ Something had changed in your opponent -- Thor was getting. . . ruthless, cared less about whether or not he held himself back from hurting you. You had more than one close call where, if Thor’s sword actually connected, you might’ve been sent to kingdom come. His teeth were bared, an obvious thrill at watching you try and keep up with him. Once brute force morphed into something calculated, methodical, agile. It was getting harder and harder to predict his next movements, winding and striking like a snake. Was this still Thor that you were fighting? It felt like a different person entirely!

_ A different person?  _

“Wait a minute. . .” you mumbled under your breath as you blocked another swing of his sword. 

“Hm?” Thor winked with an upturn of his lip. “Yield already,  _ pet _ ?” 

“ _ You _ \--!”

That slurring drawl and damned term of ‘endearment’ made your blood boil. As if he could read your mind, which you really hoped he wasn’t, the prince’s face broke out into a fit of glee. You jumped back, throwing your sword to the ground with a snarl. 

“ _ Loki _ !”

‘Thor’ reared back with a cock of his head, greatly amused as he clapped his hands in slow applause. In a shift of light, sun-kissed biceps reverted to lean sinewy muscles, gold turned into raven, sky blue plunged into sea green. Behind you, you could hear the crash of cups against the ground and spilling water -- Sif was just as shocked as you. Loki outstretched his arms in a show of ‘you got me.’

“I was wondering when you were going to notice, my dear,” he chuckled with a positively impish visage, but you felt no such sentiment. You wanted to spit at him, curse at him, pummel him with your sword -- but you bit yourself back and settled for just glaring. 

“Brother?” 

All heads whipped around at the incoming footsteps and clank of metal armor. There, the  _ real  _ Thor waltzed in, followed by the Warriors Three. They all noticed the charged atmosphere immediately. Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun all made their way toward Lady Sif, immediately going in hushed tones; all four of them snuck peaks at you as they huddled and gossiped. 

Your scowl hadn’t relented, and neither did Loki’s sneer, the both of you caught in a silent stand-off. Thor glanced between the two of you curiously. 

“Uhh. . . is everything alright?” he cocked a brow, trying to keep a lighthearted smile on his face. 

“Perfectly, brother,” Loki simpered with a chuckle without breaking eye contact with you. “Now run along so I can finally beat this woman into submission.” 

“In your dreams, your  _ highness _ ,” you mocked, insides still burning -- but with pain or fury, who could tell. You picked your sword back up from the ground, ignoring your aching muscles, readying the leathered grip in your hand. “I still have plenty of fight left in me.” 

“Oh, do you now?” his eyes glinted as he readied his own sword again. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to leave it at a draw? That you were-- now, what was the word. . . “ he snickered. “-- Ah, yes.  _ Beat _ .” 

You couldn’t stop the growl that naturally rumbled in your throat, and that seemed to only spur Loki  _ more _ \-- his eyes darkened, hooded and just waiting to sink his teeth into you once more.  _ Fine.  _ At least now you’ll have the pleasure to pummel his face for real this time. If it’s a fight he wants, it’s a fight he’ll get! You swung back your sword and dashed forward--

“Now,  _ wait _ !” Thor jumped between the two of you, holding his arms out to keep you apart. 

“Don’t interfere, Brother,” Loki snarled in annoyance. 

“Let me at him, Thor--” you lunged again, but Thor held you away with his single arm easily. “Thor!” 

“I’m sorry, my friend, to interrupt such a heated battle especially when I know you are so rare to do so,” the elder prince’s eyes were soft and pleading as he looked you over. “But you are in no condition to continue.” 

“What? I’m fine,” you tried to push past him again, but his frame was an insurmountable brick wall. “Thor, c’mon, I feel fine!” 

The man turned to face you fully, and you had to step back as you were hit with the sheer force of his presence -- although Loki could replicate his looks, he could have never matched his brother’s aura. Warmth and gentleness radiated off of him like the sun, already forcing your anger to quell. 

“My friend,” he tenderly gripped your wrist and caressed it in his palms. “You’re shaking like a newborn lamb. I don’t even know how you can continue to hold your sword up.” 

_ Damn.  _ At his words, your adrenaline-fogged mind abated and a bit of your logical head returned. Your knees wobbled against each other, shoulders struggling to even stay squared. You could suddenly feel the blisters of your palm against the chaffing grip of the sword, how your arms languished with even the minutest motion. How  _ were  _ you still standing? 

“Ah. . . “ you breathed, relaxing back upright as Thor continued to hold your hands comfortingly in his own. His mild eyes gazed down at you as he smiled at your growing serenity; truly, you appreciated his concern. 

“What a mighty girl you are,” he chuckled quietly as he knelt down on a knee; you naturally backed up in confusion, but his large hand hooked beneath your knee, keeping you close. “And all these bruises. . . I never knew you were so durable.” 

Your brain turned to mush as his hand massaged the skin behind your knee, holding it up so he could look at it closer. You could feel his hot breath over your skin, and it made you flush with embarrassment -- again that queasy feeling returned. You knew Thor was always the touchy feely type, so you tried to laugh and pull away; but he held you firmly in place, only looking up at you with eyes that you had never seen from the elder prince. His thumb ran over an open wound on your knee, making you hiss; he paused at that, but dragged his finger to rub the blood into your skin.  _ What is he doing?  _ His face seemed to be getting closer and closer to your skin--

“Get. Off. Her.  _ Now _ .” 

The dull blade of Loki’s training sword hovered from behind Thor’s nape, Loki’s face stern and jaw ticking with strain. Thor didn’t move, only snickering. 

“Did you not hear me, you oaf? I said--” Loki pulled roughly at his brother’s shoulder, ripping him away from you and back on his feet. “Get  _ off _ .” 

Thor sighed and stretched his shoulders, now turning to face the younger prince. “Touchy today, aren’t you Loki?” 

“It would appear  _ you’re  _ the touchy one, Thor,” he spat. 

Silence, then; some unspoken conversation enrapturing the two brothers. You were still angry at Loki and confused now with Thor, but this was the opening for your escape -- you glanced over to Sif and the other warriors still huddled beneath the tree. You tried to move a leg around subtly, but your whole body was jelly now that the adrenaline had run its course; your foot caught on something, and you stumbled. 

“ _ Ack _ \--!” 

“My lady!” Thor’s arms wrapped around your middle, keeping you upright. For some reason, his touch made you anxious; you instinctively pulled away from him slightly. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine, I’m fine,” you tried to untangle yourself from him, but your knees crumpled beneath your weight, Thor keeping you steady. 

“Here, let me help you over to the bench--” 

“ _ Move _ ,” Loki was by your side and pushing away Thor in a flash, wrapping his arms around your waist as Thor had done. You were flooded by the sensation of his cool skin, the scent of his sweat and his rainy musk.  _ No sweetness _ .  _ No anxiousness _ .  _ Just Loki _ . “I’ll take you to the hospital wing.” 

“No, that’s not necessary--” 

“Just shut up, will you?” he barked, voice piercing through you like an arrow. You nodded sheepishly. He sighed, “Can you walk?” 

“I think so. . . “ using his shoulder for support, you attempted a few steps, but your limping and wobbling had him shaking his head disapprovingly. In another flourish, you were swept off your feet -- literally. Your sword fell to the ground forgotten as your hands scrambled to secure themselves at Loki’s firm shoulders; he folded you into him, and suddenly you wondered why you had kept yourself away from him all this time. Your heart  _ ached.  _

“Comfortable?” his face was only millimeters away, his voice only a whisper -- only for your ears. You dropped your head into your chest, as if you could somehow hide away. 

“Yes,” you breathed with a small nod. Loki nodded in turn, pulling you even closer to him as if you weren’t plastered to his chest already. 

“Thor.” 

“Loki.” 

The two brothers gave their brief goodbyes. As your head was still ducked in the safety of Loki’s chest, you missed the glare that passed between the two princes as the younger made his way out. You didn’t notice how thunder clouds rumbled overhead, the way Sif shifted uncomfortably at the sight of you three. 

You missed it all. Because right now, all you could feel was the reassuring thump of Loki’s heartbeat against your ear. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love that push and pull :')

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Any comments or suggestions are greatly appreciated!


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